Monochrome
by sarahstalcup
Summary: There exists a monster within us all. When it finds us, will we have the humanity to break its will? Can we see the line between good and evil?......Chapter 12 has been uploaded! Reviews are appreciated!
1. Prologue

Monochrome

A Naruto Fanfic by Sarah Stalcup

Disclaimer – I do not own any of the characters in the Naruto universe. They are copyright Masashi Kishimoto.

Prologue

Sunrise had yet to show itself as faint steps echoed in the early mist. Droplets of dew, clinging to strands of grass, fell in peril towards the ground, triggered by a passing figure's intrusion.

Natagawa Umeka never intended for anything peculiar to happen as she went foraging for the tender bamboo shoots that grew along the forest river's bed. She never expected to hear anything save the calls of crickets and fowl, the voice of the river. This was routine, ordinary, boring and tedious. A simple job for a simple girl of 15.

As she walked along the damp grass, careful not to tread too far into the bank, she searched tiredly, cursing her mother for making her wake up so early. Her messy golden-blond hair, hastily tied into a loose bun on the back of her head, showed blatant signs of weariness, as did her half-lidded, brown eyes.

Working her way around rocks and tight clusters of small trees and bushes, Umeka's rubber boots thankfully kept her feet warm. There had been a rain shower the previous night and the river level had risen a little. And even though it was late June, the absence of the sun's warmth cast a chill over the entire landscape.

Despite her drowsiness, Umeka could not deny that the large willows of the surrounding forest created a peaceful backdrop to work in, as did the slow, tumbling of mist over the river's surface. She started to whistle a simple folk tune.

Nothing peculiar. Nothing out of the ordinary.

There came the sound of clamor. Behind her, coming from the riverbed's delicate fronds. The color of her skin turned to that of sour milk.

Dropping her straw basket to her feet, Umeka listened intently to the sounds, muted and soft, straining her ears. She began to back-track, eyes now wide with alarm, trying to find the source of the mysterious disturbance. It seemed to come and go, this intriguing sound, almost animal-like and yet not bestial. Her breathes seemed to catch in the back of her throat as she struggled to make them noiseless, and instead the air came out her nostrils in labored huffs. She continued to make her way along the muddy bank.

The forest around her became glaringly quite, save the noise of the enigmatic creature.

There, right in front of her. Umeka could tell she was painfully close. Closing her eyes once, twice, she bolstered her courage. She was not trained to be a shinobi, a fighter, but with her cutting knife clutched tightly in her right hand, blade pointed down like a kunai, she at least felt a little safer. Another sound emerged, this time a faint hum, and she grasped the tool firmer yet, so much that her long fingernails prodded the soft under-flesh of her supple, young hand.

The sound stopped, and Umeka crouched behind the large cluster of vegetation that she suspected the creature was hiding in. She kneeled, her legs tucked underneath, the tips of her coat trailing into the water's edge, soaking up moisture like a sponge.

Drawing a long-breath, she thrust a hand into the bush, and parted the strands of long-grass like the drapes of a curtain. Teeth clenched, Umeka raised her weapon into the air, ready to pierce the flesh and fur of whatever lay within the overgrowth.

Umeka suddenly pulled her hands away, her knife fell lose and at first the girl thought she might scream in surprise. She fell onto her backside into half-a-foot of chilly river water, her coat and pants instantly becoming sodden; she shuddered, but not from the cold.

Collecting herself for what seemed the hundredth time this morning, Umeka brought herself back up to the circle of plants. This time she slowly moved her face through the blades of grass.

A single child, naked as if just born, lay in the water, anchored down by the river grass and soft mud. It gurgled a little, as Umeka rubbed her eyes, bits of residue and crust tumbling from the corners. It was 5:24 in the bitter, frigid morning and she was not in the mood for one of Fumimaro's practical jokes, nor for day dreams and phantasms.

She peered downwards, hoping that the pale, ghostlike and parentless infant would have vanished with the morning haze that was fogging her mind. Sighing, she found it to still be there, cooing gently, cheeks ruddy from the cold.

"How cruel…" she said, finally finding her voice. Umeka eyed the child suspiciously. No parent from the Waterfall village would abandon a child like this, which meant that it was an orphan, and she worried that it might have been subjected to the elements for too long.

Quickly and carefully, she took off her coat. Its quilted lining was waterproof and still dry, still warm. Laying the coat on the ground, the girl bit her lower lip as she reached into the grass and lifted the naked infant, who was now giggling, as if unaware of its terrible circumstance. In a moment of clarity, Umeka noticed that there was no umbilical cord.

Pushing this thought aside, she wrapped the baby in her coat and after dumping her collection of bamboo shoots, placed the bundle within the confines of the basket.

Umeka found her pace treading towards a sprint as she hurried back to the Waterfall village, the blisters on her heels ignored blindly. She felt the skin of the baby's stomach, and found it to be dangerously cold. The infant's life depended on her now.

Whipping past towering maples and miniature mountains, Umeka felt her heart throbbing within her ribcage, her throat dry from anxiety. Just as she saw the gates of the village, she suddenly felt her ankle go awry, felt it twist in a way it shouldn't. Gasping, she clutched the basket close to her chest, and with a yelp, she toppled across the ground, the knees of her pants ripping, her face becoming soiled with grass and muddy grime. Her legs, especially her left ankle, ached with a searing pain, but the child was safe, if not a little stunned, its green eyes wide and glossed over. Choking back a tear, Umeka staggered back into standing, as she hobbled towards the wooden enclosure that surrounded the entirety of the village. The muscles in her leg pulsated as blood rushed to her injury, turning her skin purple. With all her determination, Umeka struggled to ignore the hurt. She was so close, she could see a few figures not even 20 feet in front of her, taking watch at the village's entrance.

Alerted by the girl's heavy footsteps, the closest guard suddenly lifted his sleepy head towards her.

"Umeka!" he shouted, dropping his polearm, rushing to her aid as Umeka collapsed again from exhaustion. He noticed the basket that she was desperately clutching, but could not pry it from her tired arms, not without force.

"Ni-chan! What happened!"

"Fumimaro…a child…" the girl whispered, loosening her grip once she recognized the face of her older brother, allowing the young guard to release the bundle from her arms. In an instant, she passed out on the ground.

"Takihashi! Get a stretcher!" Fumimaro ordered another guard, as he carefully unwrapped the bundle. A cry spilled from the coat, and he nearly dropped the basket in surprise, "What in the world…"

The baby began to cry more passionately, maybe from hunger, maybe from fear from the previous fall. Fumimaro discovered that although he was prepared for some of the most precarious situations, ranging from raids to natural disasters like floods, he was now at a loss. With another wail from the baby, Fumimaro shook his clouded head, knowing fully well what he had to do.

"Takihashi…take Umeka to the hospital…I must go to the chief…" he said resolutely, focusing in on the mysterious child before him, fists clenched and feet kicking.

The sunrise finally broke through the thick clouds ahead as a new day began in the Waterfall village.


	2. Shades of Gray

((Thanks to all the readers out there! I hope you all will continue to enjoy the story as it progresses. Just a note, words in italics are thoughts. And of course, the Naruto verse is copyright Masashi Kishimoto))

Chapter one : Shades of Gray

"Hai!"

The words echoed in the training facility, sharp and terse, like pin-pricks. It was definitely feminine, not lacking in grace, but rather deficit of the shyness normally associated with girls and young women.

Within the training ground, two lone figures faced each other squarely, preparing to spar. The dojo was plain and undecorated, the only picture being an austere portrait of an old sensei on the northern most wall. Several windows lined the wooden surfaces, allowing a soft, natural glow of the September sun to effuse the room. A black mat covered the ground, on which the fighters stood.

One is a tall, slender man of roughly 45 years, with black hair pulled into a high-set ponytail. His face was taut, much like his hair, and no clear expression was shown. He nodded to his opponent, a girl, whose age and appearance belied her skill.

She was rather short, only coming up to the man's chest level, with elegant fingers and nearly scrawny legs. Gosling-white hair reached her knees, bound at the end with a metal clasp, save three large, green-tinted dreads that hung loose. Her bangs framed her porcelain face, and glittering green eyes shone through glossy strands, opened with attention. Barely visible were two moles, one above the other, below her right eye. Her lips, which were light peach, are as thin as a knife's edge, and pressed tightly.

Wearing hakama pants of heavy, black fabric and white gi tops, the two remained locked in each other's gaze, trapped by the fierce, pure, pull of hesitation.

Not a single muscles flinched in either combatants' body. They were mirror images of each other, both with legs apart, one in front of the other, the front knee lowered slightly. Their arms are relaxed at their sides, not strained, with elbows bent slightly. With mathematical precision, their weight is distributed with 60 percent over the front foot, 40 percent over the back foot.

With a grace like that of dancer, the man brought his hands in front of himself, readying himself. His eyes squinted for a moment, and he launched forward, bare feet padding against the practice mat. His body was a blur of white and black, nearly undetectable, a line dashing across the room toward the motionless girl. The air particles became charged with the energy of anticipation, and yet his movements were noiseless, like that of an attacking cougar.

He parted his dry, chapped lips to reveal clenched teeth, his left canine missing, the other sharp as a kunai. He pulled his right fist forward, index and middle finger first, targeting the girl's chin. His eyes were alive, bright and fiery, as he moved ever closer to his opponent.

_I cannot win_

A sudden feeling of discomfort shot into his sternum, and spit frothed at the man's mouth. He felt his balance being manipulated, his wits leaving him. A hand, flat and firm, pushed into his lower chin, knocking his head backwards.

Within seconds, the older, seemingly stronger man found himself plummeting onto his own back, the air forcefully pushed from his lungs.

Regaining his senses, the attacker looked up at his adversary, still in a defensive waiting stance, arms bent, but not forward.

Her eyes were closed, and her face was still composed.

The laugh that erupted within the dojo took the girl by surprise, and caused her to open her eyes at once. She relaxed her limbs, face and emotions indiscernible.

It was a sound she was not used to.

"Sensei…have I done something wrong?" she asked, her voice devoid of the resolve previously shown. Her teacher is still on the ground, leaning back on his hands, arms straightened and elbows locked. His eyes were misty from the sudden bout of mirth.

"To think that I was taken down by such a simple, basic maneuver as the shomenate…clearly you have dominated me in this field…" the man said in between bursts of laughter, which now filled the room. He clasped a hand to his face, covering his black eyes in humiliation and embarrassment, "With your eyes closed, nonetheless!"

"Please…do not waste words such as that on me…" a light blush glowed on her whitish-cheeks. The girl turned her gaze away from the defeated man, "You are my master, my superior. It was simply luck."

"Chihiko-san…words are not wasted when used to describe a fighter such as yourself," he replied, now becoming more reserved.

"Hitaishii-sensei, I am not a fighter…I am your student," said Chihiko, visibly uncomfortable by her teacher's use of an honorific, "That is my purpose. I must become a Jounin for my village."

"This is true. But one cannot overlook their own talent. One must value their own strengths, as well as their weaknesses," Hitaishii replied quickly, concerned. He carefully observed his student's reaction, "To become a Chuunin at the age of 11, and have a chance at attaining the level of Jounin at 15 is no easy feat."

The girl remained quiet, looking at her feet, toe-nails clipped short and clean to the dojo's specifications. Her bangs cascaded in front of her eyes and mouth, hiding them. Reaching for one of her dreads, Chihiko began to fumble with it, twisting the thick curl between her delicate, long fingers.

"Sensei…" she started, but soon she silenced herself, realizing she had nothing else to say.

Frowning and disconcerted, the master walked towards his pupil, closing the gap between them until she could feel his breaths bearing down on her.

"Is that what you truly believe?"

She clamped her lower lip between white teeth, grinding them gently in stubborn indecision.

"I see. Then, let's go again…student."

Like a robot, Chihiko's body became rigid, as she walked back a few paces, taking up her stance once more, eyes locked on her master, like crosshairs attached onto a target.

It is the same stance as before. It is the same stance as a hundred times before. A million.

Perfectly-honed, like an arrow's point, the girl fell into the mindset of a pupil, as if it was her only function. Her disorientation was gone now that she has been given a command.

"Hai!"

------------------------------------------------

The practice session lasted nearly 4 hours, with quick resting periods to break up the monotony of training. Skin flushed from exertion, Chihiko wiped the sweat from off the training mat as protocol demanded. As routine instructed.

She soaked the cloth using the water from her red, plastic bucket and ignored the burn in her arms from performing the same reversal throws and interception techniques hundreds of times over. A bruise on her left shoulder showed blatant failure during one of her attempts, and she rued it desperately.

_I cannot disappoint them. They will leave me… _she thought to herself, tossing the sodden cloth into the bucket, finally finished her task. She touched the blue and red mark, testing its sensitivity. There was only a short wince of pain before it faded. It would be gone in less then 2 days. Sighing, Chihiko lifted herself off the ground, mouth pursed with fatigue.

Hitaishii, sensing that she is finished her task, called to her from the dojo's exit, a large duffle bag slung over his shoulder.

"Chihiko…if you are finished, you may go home," he said. Wearing a light, casual kimono, tied loosely in the front and plain sandals, the man no longer appeared to be a teacher nor a fighter, but instead an everyday commoner. Chihiko eyed him from across the room.

"Yes, sensei…" the kunoichi responded immediately, obediently, causing the man to give a heavy sigh.

"You don't need to call me 'sensei' when we are no longer training."

The girl looked at him disapprovingly, but nodded anyway. It was not in her to refer to someone so informally. The chief would not have it that way in any circumstance.

"Have a good day, Hitaishii-sensei," said Chihiko, trying to strike a healthy compromise so that she did not have to abandon her ideals. She bowed gracefully, and Hitaishii smiled lightly, knowing that he could not win when pitted against Chihiko's stubbornness for etiquette.

"Good day to you as well, Chihiko-san."

She watched carefully as her teacher left, the air becoming rather stagnant as the door closed behind him. With the windows closed and shutters drawn, the dojo was actually rather dark and close.

And yet for Chihiko it was her second home within the Waterfall village.

The wood of the floors held the memories of her first training endeavors, and the walls had watched her earliest attempts at mastering the arts of Ninjutsu.

Foremost, the portrait of the grandmaster Kobayashi Mochihito, was always there to peer down on her, scrutinizing her every move, driving her to perfection. He had seen her blood spilled when her techniques had proved disastrous, just as he had witnessed victories such as those of today. It was a simple picture, but it showed the face of a man Chihiko would fear to meet, and yet at the same time she would be honored to share the same air as him.

Mochihito-sama died many years ago, much earlier then when Chihiko had entered the dojo at the age of three. But he felt very real to her. She could feel those stony, grayed eyes zeroing in on her at all times, always keeping her on her guard. His image alone could project shame into her heart.

It was for him that she practiced and trained endlessly. For him that she strained every fiber of her being to the limit. For him that she cried at night from the pain of her injuries and broken-pride.

If she failed to appease Mochihito-sama, as well as the other leaders of the village, there was no reason for her to even breathe. She knew her purpose well, and she abided by it every minute of every day.

Plus, if she did not become a Jounin…there was no way for her to see "him" again…

_I'll see you once I become a Jounin! I promise!_

So long ago, so far away in her life. But she remembered his voice like a recording trapped in her memory.

_We'll be friends…always…_

Picking up the bucket, Chihiko carried it towards the dojo's washroom. She felt another presence watching her. Or at least she hoped he was watching her, from some distant land, on some amazing mission.

She placed the bucket in the sink carefully, tilting it to one side, letting the dirty water splash down the drain, as she placed the wet cloth in a wooden basin by itself. She tried to concentrate on her task, but couldn't in spite of herself.

"No time for daydreams…" she admonished herself, picking up the nearby washboard. As she scrubbed the cloth against the ridges of galvanized steel, Chihiko felt her thoughts slipping away once more. The monotonous task of cleaning caused her focus to slip, drift, and eventually fall out. The cloth began to wear thin, but she hardly gave it notice or care, as she started to reminisce.

_Zaku…_


	3. The Clearing

Chapter two : The Clearing

Chihiko's body slammed against the stony ground outside the dojo, her legs tucked beneath her. A cry escaped her tiny mouth as she quickly regained her composure, somersaulting onto her feet. Hair whipping around her, she pivoted on one foot rapidly, while simultaneously bringing her hands in front of her, the fabric of her hakama pants jerking from the precise movement.

"Terrible…just terrible…" a voice spoke out to her, clearly disgusted, "You must be faster! Stronger! Intelligent! Do not let confusion or fear cloud your judgement!"

Chihiko nodded her head fiercely, mustering all of her courage to try again. Her eyebrows furrowed with determination as she waited for the next attack to come.

This time from the left, a series of blazingly fast punches, all aimed towards her head. Chihiko moved as soon as her opponent did, and just as a blow was about to connect, she extended both arms towards the attack, parrying its momentum. Teeth clenched, the nimble girl secured the man's right wrist in her right hand, his left elbow with her left hand, and then suddenly pivoted to face the surprised enemy straight on. With a swift, deft motion, Chihiko guided the man's punch in a counter-clockwise motion, up and over her head. Using his own velocity against him, she spun the man in midair, sending him careening onto the ground.

She has no time to recuperate from the attack. A kunai flew towards her collarbone, set to render her flesh, but once again, Chihiko reacted with infinite speed. Bringing her left arm up, she deflected the assault, and then wrapped her right hand around the foe's wrist. She pulled his weapon-holding wrist down to her right side, in front of her, and pushed the rest of his body flat onto the ground with her left hand. Quickly tucking his arm into his body, she swiped the blade and flung it aside harmlessly.

It all seemed to happen in a matter of moments, a fleeting strand of attacks and counter-attacks.

The sounds of battle settled, leaving Chihiko panting, but standing. The two men, nearly 15 years her senior, laid on the ground, winded, but not badly injured. Surveying the scene carefully, the girl made sure that none of them had sustained any serious wounds. It was the first action one must take after victory.

She was startled out of her robotic trance by the sound of distant applause, the claps slow and rhythmic.

"Better. Now you are listening," the same man from before stated, now more satisfied.

"You must practice to attain the ultimate speed. If you can react faster, no attack can penetrate your defense. Reaction is the key."

"Hai, Kichimata-sensei…I will," Chihiko responded diligently, using her forearm, not the sleeve of her gi, to wipe the sweat from her brow.

"You have been following my orders well. It is just as the chief has declared," Kichimata chuckled, obviously delighted by the girl's progress, "With time, you will be able to show even the likes of Konoha that the Waterfall village is not made up of only farmers and businessmen."

"Hai…that is my duty," closing her eyes as if reciting the lines from memory, Chihiko bowed to her teacher.

"That is your duty, your life," the old man repeated her words, twisting the strands of his long, white mustache. He continued, "Never forget that Chihiko…never forget that without the art of Ninjutsu, you have nothing. It is your life, your everything,"

"Hai," Chihiko replied, snapping to attention, her face unflinching. Her teacher nodded, grinning slightly. She did not act like a slave, but rather a devote acolyte to his words. Kichimata bathed in the glow of Chihiko's success as if it were his own.

A man from across the road suddenly dashed towards the two, armpits drenched in perspiration. His breaths heaved out in short bursts, his lungs obviously aching for rest.

"Ki….Kichimata….sensei…" he labored to speak, resting his hands on his knees, balance wavering.

"Boy, what is it? Are you wounded?" the old teacher said with concern, placing a hand on the young man's hunched back. Chihiko is surprised to see her teacher displaying such abundant apprehension; she usually found him to be a cold, unfeeling man, but then again, she had yet to witness his behavior outside of training.

"Yes…I'm alright…" the boy clutched his chest, mouth open. He slowly rose from his bent position, chin length hair in disarray, "There are people in the village, people from a different village…I was told to alert you…"

"And you were right to. You have done well, my son…" Kichimata said resolutely, as he turned to face Chihiko, "Let us go greet these visitors…if they have come in peace."

The teacher walked away from the boy, who still struggled to calm his lungs, heart racing too fast for him to catch up with. With the long tails of her teacher's coat fluttering behing him, Chihiko soon followed suite, her footsteps matching those of Kichimata's exactly. Like a puppet, she mimicked her teacher's stance, his gait, the way he held his head up high as they walked towards the village's entrance. Teacher and pupil strode past the familiar market and hospital, winding through the alleys that had become infested with shadows as the day turned into dusk.

They did not have to travel far before they spotted four unusual travelers, all of them standing just inside the village's gates. Their faces were severe and grave, not a sliver of a smile on any of them, and Chihiko felt a tremble of intimidation spread throughout her.

"Sensei, who are these people and why have they come to our village?" Chihiko asked quietly as they examined the visitors, safe behind the corner of a nearby building.

"I don't know, Chihiko, but we won't find anything here. Even in Aikido, 'the way of harmony', there are times when you simply must act first," Kichimata answered, and Chihiko is amazed once more at how her teacher could infuse every word with a bit of wisdom.

He removed himself from the building's silhouette, making himself completely visible in the waning afternoon sunlight. The tallest figure turned nonchalantly towards the elderly man. Instantly Chihiko sensed an atmosphere of horrendous power within the man. His every inch seemed teeming with vile-intentions, even though his face was plain and pale. Dressed in a jounin outfit of dark plum, with his hair pulled back, the man's face is revealed, yellow eyes polished and illuminated with the encroaching sunset. With sunken-in cheeks and slender proportions, Chihiko quickly realized that his frail and delicate appearance contradicted his inner strength.

He looked at Kichimata as if the old teacher were nothing more then a mere bug, his mouth straight and emotionless, and then turned back to the three young adults with him.

"You there, stranger, who are you and what has brought you to our village? Do you have permission to be here?" Kichimata ordered, voice full and robust. His blue and white robes flapped in the evening breeze like the wings of a gull, hiding his frail frame.

Disinterested, the peculiar man ignored the questions and simply began talking to his company in low, hushed tones. A vein on Kichimata's forehead swelled slightly with mounting irritation. Chihiko looked up towards his face and could tell that even with his lips sealed, his teeth were clenched, his jawbone bulging.

"I have asked you a question, and I expect an answer! You are not native to this country, that I can tell for sure," taking a few experimental steps closer to the stubborn man, Kichimata did not feel fear, but anger. He came within five feet of the foreigner.

One of the other travelers, a boy with spiky, brown hair, turned his head slightly. Obviously annoyed, he stuck his tongue out towards Chihiko's sensei, eyes squinted. Unexpectedly, a hand slapped down hard on the exposed backside of his neck, causing him to squawk like a duck.

"Now now, that's no way to act," the man finally opened his mouth, although his voice was more sarcastic than anything else. He slowly turned to face the two Waterfall ninja, his thin lips pulled back into a gaping smirk. When he spoke, the man's words were laced with acidic humor

"The old man is right, we are not natives…" he said sardonically.

"Old man?" Kichimata chuckled, humored by the young man's ignorant behavior, "I think you'll find me to be a might bit stronger then I look."

"Don't go getting your robes in a knot," raising a flattened palm in peace, the man softened his expression, although Chihiko suspected that he had to strain to do so, "We are from the Sound Village that lies to the East of here. We are not here to fight, but are merely searching for a place to rest while we train. My students here wish to become Chuunin warriors."

He motioned towards the three children, and each of them shot scornful glances at Kichimata, as if they were far above his station. Chihiko noticed that they all wore garments of camoflauge material. The shortest of the students was a kunoichi just like she was, with raven-black hair that rivaled Chihiko's in length. Standing next to the female Sound ninja was a frightful child who Chihiko could only hypothesize was a boy, for his face was completely shrouded in bandages. The ninja's back was covered with straw, giving him a hunched-over appearance that reminded Chihiko of a turtle-demon called a Kappa.

The remaining boy wore a tabard with the characters for "death" printed on it three times. This was the Genin who had insulted previously insulted Kichimata.

"I've not heard of your village," Kichimata remarked shortly, nostrils flaring. He glanced at the four ninja's headbands and noticed the small eighth-note stamped onto the metal plate.

"It is a fairly new village, with a small population. Surely an esteemed, cosmopolitan establishment like this would have never heard of our quaint parish," the man answered, voice cluttered with biting cynicism as he motioned to the surroundings, which were threadbare when compared to the towering buildings of Konoha.

"You are treading on a thin line, stranger. I can have you ejected in moments if you don't curb that lethal tongue of yours…" Kichimata warned, pulling his shoulders back in an attempt to make himself appear larger, "We don't take kindly to outsiders who aim to belittle our village."

"As expected…you must excuse my rudeness. We are all tired from the long journey and it must be taking its toll," shaking his head in mock weariness, the man continued, "If there is no way that we cannot be housed here for a few nights, then perhaps we could go further south…I hear Konoha's helpfulness is nearly uncanny…as are its residents"

Kichimata detected even more sarcasm in the foreigner's words, but couldn't ignore the bribe. He knew that if the four travelers took refuge in Konoha, they wouldspill scornful statements about the Waterfall Village, sullying its reputation. His heart gnawing with contempt, he watched as the travelers slowly began to depart from the village.

"Wait…" he motioned for them to stop, voice tinted with surrender, "I will speak to the chief in your name."

The man grinned again, realizing that he had won.

"I will need all of your names, as well as documentation that you are indeed members of this so-called Sound Village," Kichimata spoke, spiting himself for acting on pride alone, and not common-sense. Anyone with a half-working eye could tell these people did not carry any noble intentions.

"Of course, you will have all of that," still smiling, teeth exposed, the man's voice was aloof as he walked closer to Kichimata.

The man, along with his three students, followed Kichimata as he led them toward the center of the village. From within the shadows, Chihiko watched as they disappeared, but not before the boy who stuck his tongue out peered over his shoulder, catching a quick glance of the young girl from her hiding spot. She dropped to her knees at once, concealing herself behind a wooden cart, hoping that she hadn't been spotted.

She heard the crunch of gravel beneath the boy's feet as he draws closer, felt her thudding heartbeat pulsate in her ears.

_Please don't see me….please don't see me _Chihiko repeated the words over and over in her mind, hugging her knees close to her chest.

The footsteps stop, and she suddenly heard rustling sounds, as if the boy was shuffling through the contents in the cart. At first, Chihiko is relieved that her presence was still unknown, but then she realized with panic that the boy might try to steal something.

_What would Kichimata do…he's not attacking me…he's not hurting me… _Chihiko's thoughts race, _No one's here to tell me what to do…what do I do…_

She pressed her delicate fingers against her temples, brain sore from distress.

_Even in Aikido, 'the way of harmony', there are times when you simply must act first…_

The word's of her master suddenly rang in her mind, but its simply not enough for her to act outside of training.

The sudden sound of knuckles rapping against skull shot out, and Chihiko is thrust from her mental calamity. She scrambled onto her feet, abandoning her hiding spot, and saw the owner of the cart, a burly man by the name of Eijiro, just as he's about to bring his fists down upon the boy's cheek a second time. The boy is sent tumbling onto the dirt and gravel road, the apple that was once clenched in his hand slipping free. Without hesitation, the boy jumped back into standing and with turbulent speed, he dashed off after his comrades, leaving Eijiro and Chihiko stupefied and in the dust.

"You little bastard! Get back here!" shaking his fist violently, Eijiro barked out after the belligerent youth. He then turned on Chihiko, looking just as annoyed and maybe even a little disappointed.

"You must have seen him before I got here, Chihiko-san! Why did you sit there, doing nothing!"

His words bit into Chihiko's heart, as a deepening shame began to swell from within. Knees buckled, muscles losing their staying power, Chihiko could say nothing in the face of her mistake.

"I swear, what good are you if you don't even have a sense of justice…" grumbling, Eijiro picked the apple off the ground and tossed it angrly back in his cart. Pushing it like a shopping trolley, he stomped off in the opposite direction that the boy went, still cursing under his breath.

"What good am I…" the girl, embittered by her lack of tenacity, brought her hands up towards her face, staring at the lines and wrinkles of her palms, at the fingers that couldn't be moved by her own volition to stop the boy from pick-pocketing.

"Just what kind of ninja am I…"

Heart sagging with grief, Chihiko walked with heavy footsteps back to her home, her worthless hands draped by her sides.


	4. Nightfall into Dawn

Chapter three : Nightfall into Dusk

The mess of papers strewn about the wooden desk seemed like a pitfall of document chaos, but to Chihiko it was very familiar. She eyed each paper as if it were a puzzle she had to memorize, scanning the lines of text vigorously, still wearing her night shirt and shorts, her hair a tangled mat.

"154 D-rank…143 C-rank…99 B-rank…2 A-rank…" she said to herself as she tallied the number of missions she has completed in order by rank. It would have brought immense pride to any 13-year-old ninja to have so many high-level jobs available to them. But the truth of the matter was that the Waterfall ninja wasn't heavily populated, that it didn't have many professional ninja. It really was a town occupied mostly by farmers.

Save Chihiko, there were probably only 50 or so other shinobi and kunoichi who were trained and capable enough to undergo the dangerous missions allocated by the village chief, and of that, only a small percentage of them were Jounin. It was a shameful statistic, especially since they bordered Konoha, which lay just south of them, and the Village Hidden in the Rock, which stared at them menacingly from the north. They were cornered by two massive countries, each with excellent soldiers and resources.

The Sound Village Jounin from before had been wise to mention the Village Hidden in the Leaves during his clever bribe; any other villager from this area would have been riled, being compared to Konoha.

Amongst the villager's shinobi, Chihiko was a stand-out member. She had ascended quickly through the ninja ranks, securing the title of Genin at 8 years of age, and just recently she had become one of the few Chuunin the village had to offer.

Her levels were constantly rising. With each day, she became faster, more fluid, more efficient, like a machine constantly undergoing upgrades to its system. There was hardly any other shinobi who could match her for speed and intelligence; it was nearly sickening how quickly she could assess a situation.

It should have made her heart swell with pride.

But Eijiro's comments had sunk deep down into her core, and were festering from the inside-out. Chihiko felt her gaze sink down towards the floor, towards her feet, which seemed so very small and pathetic, not capable of anything constructive.

She shook her head, chasing away the mental funk. Hands moving hastily, she shoved the documents back into a large, accordion-folder.

_This is no time for self-pity…_Chihiko thought to herself, as she placed the folder onto a nearby shelf in her unembellished, plain room. It wasn't much, but she was grateful to have basic furniture; there was a bed with simple blue sheets, a shelf on which several books and folders were held, a wardrobe, and a wooden, unvarnished desk with no chair. On the wall furthest from the door was the room's only window, which had cheap, plastic blinds that only did a mediocre job of keeping out the sun's radiance; there was never any need for electric lighting.

For Chihiko, there was no need for glamour or even decorations, save one. Sitting on the windowsill peacefully, in a brown earthenware pot, was a medium sized plant, an Aralia, sometimes referred to as a "Ming" plant. She stared at it happily, looking at its small green leafs that sprouted from numerous thin branches.

Walking towards it, she raised her right hand, fingers closed and palm flat. Chihiko felt a familiar power, one that normally lay dormant inside her, start to churn as she focused her chakra into her hand. Lips pressed inwards, Chihiko began to visualize a greenish-aura spanning forth from her fingers. She pushed the swelling energy forward, into the leaves and branches of the plant, driving it into deep into the dirt, felt the plant become stronger and more nourished.

The green in each leaf seemed to intensify, and the branches thickened slightly as Chihiko poured her chakra into the plant's cells and molecules.

"We must all grow…" shutting off the flow of chakra, Chihiko lowered her hand, referring to the potential to develop as a student, not as a human being. The Aralia was only a few weeks old, but it looked to have been alive for nearly 3 months.

Turning away from the plant, her face becoming impassive once more, she marched through the door and down the hallway in her family's house. No one was home, save Kowani, the speckled calico cat that most often frequented the living room couch.

It was early morning, and although she tried to, Chihiko found it difficult to forget the previous day's dreary encounter with the Sound ninja and her sensei's unraveling in the face of an idiotic ruse. She had never seen Kichimata yield to a foreigner, especially one so brash and mean-spirited, and the entire experience was having a long-lasting effect on her spirits.

A furry tail brushed up against her bare kneecaps and Chihiko was roused from her thoughts. She looked down to see a chubby cat with long-aged whiskers, soft purrs cooing from the back of his throat. Staring into his startling green eyes that they seemed to both share, Chihiko saw that they were pleading for food.

"Kowani, how can you be hungry?" she asked, bending over to pet the short-haired feline on his head, causing his large eyes to squint in delight. The purrs grew louder as she continued to rub his eyebrows. He suddenly swatted at her hand, signaling that he was through being petted and desired something of a more nutritional value.

"You're not getting any food…so you can just stop that," Chihiko pointed a finger at the cat's nose, "Mother told me to only feed you at night."

As if he could understand the human tongue, Kowani gave a perturbed mew before trotting back to his normal sleeping spot, tail swishing behind him.

Glancing at the grandfather clock that occupied the house's only hallway, Chihiko grumbled slightly; she only had half an hour before she had to report to training. She ran her hand through her hair, but found her fingers mired by several knots. Her green dreads were getting clumpy and would require dedicated grooming. Although not finicky, Chihiko did prefer to tend to her hair ritually.

But today it would have to wait.

Knowing that tardiness would be punished severely, Chihiko rushed into the washroom, which was quite large for only three people: Chihiko and her parents. Mechanically, she grabbed the nearest, cleanest towel that she could find in the washroom's pantry and tossed it onto the floor. She found her auto-pilot taking control as she then twisted only the "cold" valve, not a spec of warm water filtering through the showerhead.

Quickly disrobing, Chihiko entered the bitterly cold shower which would have frozen any other individual. But there was no discomfort to her, only relaxation, as if it were familiar in some unknown way. For Chihiko, there was only cold water; anything above lukewarm would sear her skin and cause it to become irritated.

She snatched a nearby bottle of heavily moisturizing shampoo and began to lather her knee-length, white hair, scrubbing each of her chunky dreadlocks with her knuckles.

Once she finished, she twisted the solitary spigot counterclockwise, halting the flow of icy water. Wrapping the white towel around her thin, almost boy-shaped body, Chihiko wrung her hair with both hands over the tub, a massive deluge of excess moisture spilling into the off-white basin. Remembering that time was short and that drying her hair would take hours on end, Chihiko speedily twisted her damp hair, including the chin length bangs which parted in the middle of her forehead, into an immense bun, leaving her three dreadlocks dangling free.

Checking to make sure her towel was secure around her, Chihiko dashed back into her room, slamming the wardrobe wide open. Besides her sole casual outfit, a yellow outfit that was barely visible, the rest of her attire was constituted of crisp training clothes. There were at least 5 gi tops and 6 pairs of hakama pants hanging tidily on wooden hangers. Taking down the freshest set available, Chihiko dressed shortly thereafter, and was soon on her way out the front door, pant legs floating in the breeze.

------------------------------------------

The mid-May weather felt wonderful that day, with the trees swaying in the wind, the air full with the scents of spring's blossoms.

Chihiko loved this time of the year, when everything appeared to be alive, unlike the cold isolation of winter, when death seemed to linger on every tree's naked bough. But she knew that she had no time to idle and admire the scenery; it was nearly 10 am, and while the trees would still be here to marvel later, her teacher's patience was most likely waning.

Her straw sandals rapping on the cobblestone pathways, she nodded to several of the other villagers as she dashed by. They were all preparing to meet the day as well, setting up their carts and stores, cooking food in the restaurants and setting kettles to boil water for tea. It was if the entire village, not just its inhabitants, was coming alive.

She hurried onwards towards the center of town where the dojo was, and like always, Kichimata was standing there, in front of the building's sliding doors, a cane held in both hands.

He did not look pleased.

"Chihiko…" the teacher spoke softly as Chihiko neared the dojo's entrance. It was not the harsh tone of voice she had expected to hear, "I have a very special mission for you."

Chihiko came to a halt at her master's feet, back straight and arms to her sides.

"Hai, sensei," the girl answered with respect, honoring her master's authority over her.

The old man seemed almost at a loss, his eyes half-lidded, moustache drooping down his wrinkled cheeks. He sighed, looking at Chihiko with mixed emotions.

"The man from yesterday, Orochinaho, is attending to some matters with two of his students," Kichimata said, tapping the end of his cane on the stony path, "he has requested the chief that his third student stay in the dojo until his return."

Chihiko could tell that her sensei was not happy at all to be playing a babysitter, especially during Chihiko's training. But he was playing the good-Samaritan for the sake of the village's status.

"Thus, your training for today will be to accompany the boy," talking as if he were being disgraced, Kichimata stepped aside to allow passage into the wooden building.

"If that is your wish, Kichimata-sensei," Chihiko, although a bit perturbed to have her training forfeit, knew that if this truly was the will of the village chief, it would have to be done.

She bowed her head to Kichimata before walking passed him, pulling one of the doors on its track to the left. No sooner had she taken one step inside the dojo did she hear a loud, obnoxious voice ring out.

"God...being left here in this dumpy dojo is bad enough, but now I have to be with you?"

Chihiko cocked her head to one side in confusion, a little miffed by the sudden outburst. This dojo was the world to her, and hearing its name being slandered caused an uncommon surge of annoyance to travel through her.

"I mean, you're probably not even a Genin yet, rookie…Being in the same room with you might stifle my abilities," the boy finally moved into a ray of sunlight, and Chihiko was flustered to see the brazen youth who had attempted to steal from Eijiro's cart. He was still wearing his camouflage pants, but gone was the menacing "death" tabard.

"It's not like I take any pleasure in being here either," Chihiko returned, maintaining a cool expression on her face, "But I don't want to start a fight with you."

"Why? So you don't get your face mopped all over the floor?" smirking, the boy placed his hands on his hips, leaning to one side charismatically.

"No, so I don't have to wipe your sweat off our practice mat," careful not to cross any boundaries, Chihiko realized that this boy had no idea that she was a Chuunin already, while he was still a whole level under her. She didn't need any unnecessary bloodshed in the dojo.

"Pah! As if you could take me on…Orochima-….Orochinaho was right about this village," the boy said, words stumbling. Chihiko found it strange that he would forget his own teacher's name. It became evident to Chihiko that these students did not share a close rapport with their sensei. And who could blame them? He seemed like an intolerably nasty man to work with.

"And what is that? That we are a village composed of weaklings?" Chihiko shot back, defending her village's honor in her teacher's absence. She acted just as Kichimata would, or as she predicted he would. These were not her own feelings of anger, but rather those of her teacher being projected through her.

"Yeah…that's pretty apparent," he retorted, "I bet I could beat all of you wimps with one hand tied down!"

Chihiko realized that the boy was trying to challenge her. But she wasn't going to give him that satisfaction. She was a disciple of Aikido, it was not in her blood to give into some weak-minded instigation.

"Hey, can't you hear me? I **SAID**…"

"I know what you said, there is no need to raise your voice" Chihiko politely cut the boy off at mid-sentence, not in the mood for games. She continued, "I don't want to fight with you. If I am to be with you, please let it be peacefully…"

The boy seemed almost peeved, but his face also carried a hint of bewilderment. Here was a person who didn't want to fight? Even when he was slandering her village's name? Tapping his foot impatiently, the boy deduced that the girl was either too weak to challenge him, or that maybe she really didn't want to fight at all.

"Is that all you think about? Victory? There is more to life than fighting," Chihiko announced, her voice ringing with an almost musical quality.

"I would have to ask you the same thing…your teacher told us that you were his star pupil…I expected that fighting was all you lived for," realizing that the girl was wiser then she looked, the boy took a faltering step in reverse.

"It is true…I exist to train…I exist to uphold my teacher's, dojo's, and village's name," Chihiko stated, taking this chance to form a more nonviolent bridge of communication between her and the boy. Staring at the boy, making him uncomfortable and uneasy, she talked to him like a teacher to a student.

"However, I do not live to engage to needless, pointless battle. I only fight when told to, I only kick when I must."

Shocked by the girl's unwavering attitude, and her resilience to his crass remarks, the young Sound ninja realized that there is no use; he couldn't rile her at all.

"Okay, okay…I get the picture…you're not going to fight me…" he sighed, craning his neck, head tilted backwards.

_He…he understood what I meant…_Chihiko is astounded by this revelation, and it sent a shiver of excitement down her spine and into her toes. Never before had she been able to connect with another person, been able to speak her mind as such. For the first time, she was actually engaging someone in conversation.

Chihiko suppressed her thrill for a moment longer, not wanting to squander this wonderful new feeling. Closing her eyes briefly, she collected herself, settled her emotions.

"No…we haven't even introduced ourselves…" Chihiko said properly, bowing dutifully, "My name is Kawano Chihiko."

"Damn…don't you ever give up with the formalities?" the boy snorted, surprising Chihiko with his foul mouth, "My names Zaku…Abumi Zaku."

Chihiko, nearly coming apart at the seams with anticipation, sat down on her shins, announcing physically that she wished to hold a friendly conversation. The corners of her lips tugged unconsciously, forming a smile that nearly caused her face muscles to ache. Her mind was bombarded with emotions and thoughts she had never felt before.

_Is this what it feels like to have…a friend?_ she thought to herself, as she patted the wooden floor next to her, hoping that the visitor would comprehend her message.

Before now, it was only through the orders of her teachers that she continued on the shinobi path; she had no other way of the living. Although she always sought the opportunity to feel involved with the other village children, she lacked the personality to be respected, didn't have the will to be noticed by anyone other than her superiors.

Surprisingly, the ardent boy, ruffling his spiky hair with his hands, sat cross-legged on the floor, half-amazed that he wasn't kicking the girl while in such a vulnerable state. He hunched over, resting his elbows on his knees, shifting awkwardly.

"So, Kawano," began Zaku, irked that he had been denied the fist-fight he had hoped for, "Tell me this…I'm assuming you don't like to fight…so why do you even belong to a dojo in the first place?"

Puzzled by his inquiry, Chihiko tapped her lower lip with a single finger, thinking about what the proper response would be. It was unusual for someone to ask such a personal question. Normally, when told to act of her own will, Chihiko became confused and required the direction of those around her.

"Its because…its because it is my master's wish that I do so," Chihiko gave the only acceptable answer that she could muster, and upon seeing Zaku's uncertainty, she elaborated, "I am told by my superiors that I came to this village an orphan. I have no proper place in society. So therefore my teacher and the village chief have given me one. If it is their will that I become the beacon for this village, then it will be carried out."

Zaku stared at the girl with wide-eyes, confused by what he's heard.

"I have no other way."

Finished speaking, Chihiko sighs. In the past two minutes she'd opened her mind to someone that was not a teacher, diplomat, or village chief, something she'd never done in all the 13 years of her life. It was exhausting and tiring, but at the same time uplifting.

"So, you're nothing more then a tool?" Zaku replied, a little leery of her answer.

"Essentially…yes. But I prefer to be seen as a student."

"That's bullcrap. You just got done telling me a spiel about how you don't like to fight, but what you're saying is that all you live for is to fight…In my mind, that makes you a hypocrite," he responded angrily. But Chihiko had expected to hear this all along.

"No, there is a difference," she said, "Whereas there are those who live to kill others, I fight because I am told to. I do not go seeking confrontation, like the rogue who lives for chaos, but rather I respond to confrontation with a gentle palm, Zaku-san."

"But you also said that there is more to life to fighting. How do you figure that if what you just said is true?" said Zaku, raising an eyebrow, baffled.

"Maybe for others there is something more. But not for one such as I," Chihiko stated simply, as if this were all common-sense and nomenclature, "I was given my purpose because I could not find one on my own. If that makes me a hypocrite, then so be it. But I find myself to be an honorable soldier who fights for a higher purpose then just victory. I fight and train for those who are greater then I am, who have their own purpose."

"You're a weirdo, you know that Kawano?" Zaku nearly laughed, now finally easing up.

"Maybe, but what does that say about you, Zaku-san? You obviously have a lust for battle…is your cause honorable?" Chihiko squinted her eyes, her lips becoming accustomed to the act of smiling. Her heart performed back-flips from behind her ribcage, but she did her best not to show it.

"That's an easy question…I want to prove to everyone that I'm not just trash, that I can be great at something!" Zaku said, pointing a finger upwards, "That's my shinobi path…and that makes it honorable. If I have to defeat a hundred ninja to prove my cause, then that's just the way it'll have to be! No one gave me this mission…its something I want and have to do on my own…"

Breathless, Chihiko is instantly envious of Zaku, jealous that he had been able to find his path on his own. She instantly crawled back inside of herself, withdrawing her emotions.

"Hey…when I become a Chuunin…no…when I become a Jounin…maybe you'll have found your own way…" Zaku turned his finger toward Chihiko, her back becoming rigid now that she was in the spotlight, "When that happens, I want to fight you…it makes me sick to see someone who can't even fight or live for themselves."

Clenched hands pressing into the tops of her thighs, Chihiko tried her best to believe in Zaku's words, that what he said was possible. But her doubts resurfaced eventually, causing her cool exterior to crack and fade-through. She diverted her gaze towards the ground at her side.

"Zaku-san…I do not believe that day shall come. This has been my life for so long," she said, embarrassed, "It cannot change so easily."

"Then let's make a promise," Zaku said, "I'll see you once I become a Jounin. I promise! And then, if you've found a shinobi way on your own, you have to fight me…I think it's stupid to not live your own life. Sure, I listen to my teacher, but I don't live my life because he told me to, or anything. I have my own goals and stuff…my own dream."

_Your own dream..._ Chihiko felt a rush of crestfallen hopes wash over her. To change her own life completely…it was something she simply could not even hope to do. For the first time in her life, she felt dissatisfied with living such a one-track life. She was dubious to believe that there was actually someone in this world who believed in her, and not just in her abilities as a fighter.

Lifting her eyes, she looked at Zaku, who looked at her with seriousness. He was not joking about his pledge.

"So…we have an agreement? I become Jounin, you find your own path, and then I come back and kick your ass, okay?" a smirk playing on his lips, Zaku spoke with a zeal Chihiko wasn't accustomed to. He then played with the loose ends of his bandanna, one hand behind his head.

"We'll be friends…always…even if I don't find my own path?" Chihiko asked in a meek voice.

"No. If that happens, I'm just going to come back and kick your ass anyway for being such a loser who talks big. I can't stand crap like that," he laughed, immediately unfolding his legs so that he could stand up. He stretched his arms, and continued, "If you're too wimpy to find your own path, then you deserve to have some sense knocked into you."

He punched his own hand for emphasis.

"Alright…" Chihiko finally concurred. She knew deep down that it was a worthless endeavor, but she agreed anyway, if only to humor the boy who had given her a sliver of hope.

"Alright…"


	5. White Disorder

Chapter four : white disorder

Her fingers scraped against the ridges of the washboard. Chihiko was quickly pulled from her daydream.

"Ow!" she cried out, dropping the board into the wooden tub with a messy splash.

The tips of her right hand fingers were all clipped, red under-flesh painfully exposed to the air. Blood, copper-smelling and crimson, began to rise to the surface and trailed down the length of her slender, thin hand. Before she could re-think her decision, she thrust the injured hand deep into the warm, soapy water, bit her lower lip as the anti-bacterial formula stung the open wounds.

"How long was I dreaming…." she asked herself, eyes squinted from the pain. Once the pain became a numb, dull-ache, Chihiko pulled her hand free from the water and wrapped a towel around it. The cloth was immediately saturated with droplets of red, and the kunoichi pressed the pressure point on the inside of her upper arm with her left hand. It was the only thing she could do at the moment to reduce the flow of blood.

Glancing outside the washroom's solitary window, Chihiko was startled to find the sun long gone from the sky, now replaced by night's haze. She muttered a few words and hastily grabbed the tub's plug, letting the water drain away. Her right hand clutched against her body, still bound in the towel, Chihiko left the room and made her way toward the dojo's exit.

As she single-handedly locked the door behind her, hand throbbing slightly, Chihiko dashed down the familiar, well-worn cobblestone path toward the village's main street.

Inside, her duffel-bag, which held all her gear, lay forgotten on the floor.

------------------------------------------------

The door slid to one side easily, well-oiled in its track.

"Konbanwa, Chihiko!" a cheery voice called to Chihiko as she silently entered the modest home. A woman with dark-black hair pulled back with a shawl sat cross-legged on the floor just beyond the front-door. In her hands, a bowl of some unidentifiable, sweet-smelling soup was held.

"Konbanwa, Okäsan," Chihiko said gratefully, bowing to the middle-aged woman before she took off her tatami sandals, placing them neatly next to several other pairs. She deftly held the hurt hand behind her back, away from her mother's gaze.

"I'm sorry I'm late tonight…I had to clean the floors and-"

"That doesn't matter, Chihiko…you must be hungry…" her mother said as she placed the bowl onto the short living-room table.

"Arigatou, Okäsan. But first I need to go wash up first," she excused herself politely before leaving the room, moving her right-hand so that it remained concealed.

Once she reached the house's bathroom, Chihiko quickly disposed of the sullied rag, folding it many times before she dumped it into the waste-bin, careful that none of her blood was visible. She turned on the sink's faucet and let the cold-refreshing water rinse away the dried, crusted blood. Soon, a new river of red started to appear from her finger-tips.

She clenched her left hand into a loose fist, her index and middle finger raised while the others were held down by her thumb. Concentrating her chakra into her hand, eyes closed, water still running, Chihiko felt a warm essence fill the entire length of her arm. It rushed into the fingertips of her left hand, and once it was at a feverish pitch, Chihiko touched her injured hand gently.

"Chi no Seppun…" she whispered, and the chakra reacted to the words. As the moments passed by, the chakra materializing from her body and the water from the faucet seemed to act in tandem, cleaning her damaged fingers.

A tingling sensation trailed into her nails, as if they were being dipped in ice, and Chihiko shivered. She'd done this a million times before, the art of self-healing, but every time it felt more intense, more successful.

"Much better," she remarked, pleased at how her hand was now fully healed. The newly-formed skin was lighter in complexion, but Chihiko doubted anyone would take notice.

Turning off the faucet, Chihiko flicked the light-switch and stepped lightly down the hallway. Her uniform was soaked in water, sweat and even a touch of blood. An unscrupulous person of unnatural fastidiousness, Chihiko knew she wouldn't be able to sit still at the dinner table until she found herself in a clean night robe.

Making a right-hand turn into her bedroom, Chihiko stared at it for a few moments, the memory of her daydream still planted in her mind. Not surprisingly, very little had changed since then, since two years ago. There was the bed with blue sheets, the shelf, the wardrobe, and the table with no chair. The only difference now was the vast array of plants that had made their home here. Vines of immeasurable length scrawled along the walls, and house-plants that should have only been a few feet in height were scraping the ceiling with their leaves. The scent of life seemed to permeate throughout the room, and Chihiko found delight in raising these plants, her constant companions. Outside of her family and teachers, no one else seemed to want her company.

_Not even him…_ she thought to herself, suddenly a little more downhearted. But she shook her head, reminded herself of the promise they had made to each other. Even if it had been years ago, it was still a promise. She nodded her head as if to reassure herself of their pledge.

Crossing the room, touching the soft, leathery leaves of a potted plant that stood beside her wardrobe, Chihiko pulled open the bottom-most drawer. Rummaging around for a comfortable robe, she eventually found one and quickly dressed in it, throwing her dirty training garb into the nearby hamper.

Yawning slightly, Chihiko checked the old, wind-up clock she had on her table. It was nearly 9 pm; her daydream had cost her nearly the entire evening. She stretched her weary limbs and unfastened the metal clip that held her hair together. Now free from restraint, the gray strands spread around her like a sheet of silver. Chihiko found it slightly ironic that not only did her calm nature personify the essence of water, but so did the pounds of hair that brushed against the backs of her knees.

After a soft sigh, Chihiko left the room. She went back out into the living room, and was about to reenter it when she heard a couple of voices speaking in lowered undertones. Nimbly, she held her back to the wall, hidden from view.

"It's not like she doesn't know, Namika...you don't have to act so sensitive," a man's voice said. That was Chihiko's father, a wood-cutter whose eyes wrinkled when he smiled. But the tone of his voice told Chihiko that he was instead frowning.

"But Yugoro, she's just a child…she can't have _that_ pushed into her face everyday…someone has to protect her," the anxious voice of Chihiko's mother returned. Chihiko noted with curiosity the emphasis her mother had placed on the word "that".

"We do enough for her. One day, she'll just have to come to terms with the truth. I don't want to raise her into a fantasy world," Yugoro said, trying to calm his wife's nerves.

"I'm not trying to break her down…she is a shinobi…she cannot be weak in any way, especially with our village's current condition. When I last spoke to Hitaishii-sensei, he told me that Chihiko could rise to the level of Jounin in a matter of weeks. She won't be able to do that if we shield her from simple truths."

From her hiding spot, Chihiko lowered her head. Their silence was unsettling, and she wondered if perhaps they had detected her.

Chihiko felt weak, but from what she couldn't decide.

Suddenly her mother spoke again.

"I know, I know…" she said as if admitting defeat, "Try as I might, I can't always pretend to be her mother."

The weight in Chihiko's stomach dropped into her feet. She clasped a hand onto the front of her robes, trying to ground herself.

"But Yugoro…she was abandoned, her parents didn't even want her. Is it so wrong to want to replace them?" her mother spoke again, this time a little more eager. She continued, "To leave a child like her in the cold, it's like they didn't even care!"

A thump of grief festered in Chihiko's racing heart. The words of her mother chimed clearer then any bell.

"And it will make her stronger if she knows that. Shinobi are tools…you know that, I know that…we can't smother that truth in candy-coated fairytales," Yugoro answered, now becoming impatient, "Namika…I know you care about her…I do as well. But one day, she's going to outgrow us. It was the fate we accepted when she joined our family. You can't keep clinging on to what will eventually leave."

It was more then the young girl could stand to hear. She moved away from the living-room noiselessly, feet moving like feathers on the wooden floor. Slowly, Chihiko crept down the hallway, careful not to alarm Kowani, who was traveling in the opposite direction Chihiko was, soft paws padding on the ground.

The moment she reached the door to her room, she rushed inside and launched herself onto the springy bed mattress. She grasped the blue sheet with both hands and twisted it around her body, encasing herself like a larvae in its cocoon. Doubled-over, knees bent and held close to her, the girl played her parent's words over and over in her mind, like a broken record.

_It's not like she doesn't know…_

Chihiko was aware of the truth…had been aware for so long. Why did it hurt so much now…

_I can't always pretend to be her mother…_

Is that all it was? A farce? An act that someone had been supervising all this time?

_Her parents didn't even want her…_

The tears that had been held back by willpower were now too many. With a choking sob, Chihiko felt silver lines being traced down her pale cheeks, salty drops of water tumbling onto her mattress cover.

But she knew deep down that this was the way it had to be. There was no way to change her duty, her life. She existed for one purpose, and that was it. There was nothing more for her than this. Using her forearm, Chihiko brushed away the tears, tucking her hair behind her head.

For her, there was only one thing: the orders of her superiors.

If this was what fate had decided for her, then who was she to even try and change it?

_Hey…when I become a Chuunin…no…when I become a Jounin…maybe you'll have found your own way…_

A twinge of pain shot through her chest, but there was nothing more that she could do. The weight of truth was just too heavy to fight.

"I'm sorry, Zaku…I can't keep our promise…" she said to herself, the tears pushed back into her eyes.

"My shinobi way was given to me long ago."


	6. Parting of Clouds

Chapter five : Parting of Clouds

Chihiko stirred as the first beams of sunlight shot past the window blinds, striking her closed eyelids with fresh warmth. She wrinkled her nose slightly, swatting the beams of light with the one hand that wasn't ensnared in her bed linens.

Wriggling free of an entwined blanket, the young girl realized that she had fallen asleep quite suddenly the night before. Her robes had nearly fallen off completely, much to her shock and embarrassment. As if a large spectator audience were present, Chihiko grabbed the blue sheet and swathed herself in it as quickly as it had been discarded.

Fidgeting with the sheet, making sure none of her skin was visible, Chihiko shifted into a seated position. She moved herself to the mattress' edge so that her long legs draped over, her feet flat on the wooden floor.

"Another day…" Chihiko mumbled, her eyes turned toward the window. Leaning so far that her back almost touched the bed, she grasped the cord to the blinds and pulled them open, allowing her room to be swallowed by daylight. The natural illumination invigorated her, roused her senses.

Removing herself from the Spartan bed, still bundled in her sheets, Chihiko mechanically reached down beside her for her duffle bag that usually rested next to the table.

Her muscles stiffened when her fingers touched thin air.

Chihiko felt her throat go dry as she looked down and gazed at the bare spot on the floor, nearly able to picture the dotted outline of her bag.

"Where is it…where is it…." she asked herself repeatedly, head turning this way and that, searching frantically. She knew very well and clear that it wasn't in the living room, or in the kitchen. After training, Chihiko _always_ placed her duffle bag next to the wooden, chipped table to be used the next day. It held her books and sparring gear, not to mention the papers that outlined her eventual promotion to the Jounin-rank, all which had been hand-written and signed by the village chief and Hitaishii themselves. A few of them had even been written by her late sensei, Kichimata, before his death.

They were irreplaceable and therefore vital to her promotion.

Beads of sweat began to form in Chihiko's hairline, her face becoming scarlet with unease. Popping her head out the doorway, she peered down the hallway, seeing if she had perhaps dropped the duffle bag during the previous night's rush for the washroom.

But the corridor was absent of her gear, and it didn't take long after for Chihiko to realize her folly.

Eyes rolled into the top of her head, Chihiko lumbered back into her room, exhausted from her frenzied and somewhat wasted search. Plopping onto her bed, she slapped her forehead.

"Guess I know where my first stop for today will be," Chihiko said sarcastically. Today was one of her few days off from training, and she had planned on using it to relax, as well as to review her Jounin papers. It was only a matter of time before her promotion was authorized, and although it meant very little to Chihiko on a personal level, it would bring a greater sense of pride to the community as a whole. She would join the village's three other Jounin if her evaluation went through positively, which was inevitable to say the least.

Glancing at the vacant spot on the floor once more, Chihiko sighed and started to dress for the day.

------------------------------------------

It was a rare occasion for Chihiko to wear anything but her hakama and gi. This was due to the fact that she literally practiced in the dojo everyday, save one Friday a month.

Today was that Friday.

As she walked down the road, her gait swifter then a casual walking speed, Chihiko rubbed the sides of her arms, not accustomed to wearing her only set of casual clothes, or the attention it garnered.

Not only was it immensely more colorful then her training attire, but it was also far less conservative. It consisted of a white, corset-like shirt with yellow trim that bared her shoulders and had a zip front with panels of fabric on her sides.

Her arms were covered by yellow sleeves that weren't attached to the shirt. They fit tight and snug to keep them from slipping off when she moved about. Her feet, normally exposed when she wore her straw sandals, were now completely hidden from view in a pair of yellow boots which had metals straps going across the tops of them.

In contrast, Chihiko's slender, lithe legs were very visible under the yellow skirt she wore, which fell to her upper thighs and had a small slit on the right side to aid in mobility. Long strips of white bandage covered her entire left thigh, as were both of her hands. Finally, around her neck was a cord of red leather, wrapped around several times before being tied in the front.

Many villagers, mostly those from the male-end of the gender spectrum, turned their heads as the young Kunoichi passed by, her white hair twisted into a long braid that trailed behind her like a tendril. She blushed as several young-boys waved "hello" to her, causing her to give a bashful nod as she picked up her pace, the heels of her boots traipsing over the dirt and pebble street.

"I don't even know why I bother…" she murmured under her breath, crossing her arms in front of her in a lame attempt to hide herself. It was just too different from her normal garb, one that afforded her more modesty. But it was against dojo policy to wear her uniform outside of practice or on recreational days.

Thankfully she wasn't the slightest bit cold, even if she was wearing little more then a tube top and mini-skirt. Her immunity to chilly temperatures wasn't restricted to just bathing water, but atmospheric conditions as well.

A breeze festooned with red and golden leaves fluttered by, picking up Chihiko's long braid on its way, her bangs dancing wildly like flickering embers. She relished this sort of weather, when all others were bundled tightly in their kimono jackets, packing away their summer clothes. It would be another two months before Chihiko even considered pulling out her winter apparel.

She loved autumn, the changing of the leaves, the crisp air that seemed to tingle with the subtle energy of change. Hot weather of any kind annoyed her, made her sweat immensely; she couldn't fathom why anyone would want summer instead of winter.

Chihiko continued down the main street towards the dojo, not in any sort of hurry. It wasn't like her bag would sprout legs and shuffle off by itself. Besides, she wanted to savor the September chill.

Then Chihiko remembered her role in life, her shinobi way, and she sighed.

Chihiko could still feel a scrutinizing eye cast over her, making her feel on guard. She was always at the whim of her superiors, always on duty. She stood tall, walked properly and spoke properly at all times. She was a beacon for the village; there was no time for recreation even when she wasn't in the dojo.

Still hugging herself, Chihiko paused for a moment as she passed the home of the village chief, peering at the tall, shingled roof. On each corner rested an ornamental stone fish, their mouths open wide. In contrast to the other buildings in the village, this one seemed magnificent, with its massive, mahogany doors, sprawling ceremonial scrolls and brightly colored lanterns that swung gently in the breeze.

It was a beautiful house, but it still didn't hold a candle when compared to a legendary mansions of the Kage, the lords of the five great shinobi countries. Nothing in the village could compete with those nations…

_Except me…_ she thought, mouth firm. She found her feet moving by themselves as she walked up the steps towards one of the windows, looking in its semi-reflective surface. As she stared at her self, not impressed by what she saw, a muffled voice emerged from within the building, speaking rather loudly.

"Chihiko-san will be fine as a Jounin…she is not too young for such a title…" Chihiko's ears perked as she heard her name being said. She instantly recognized the voice of the village chief. Not wanted to look suspicious, as if she were spying, she leaned up against the house casually, one leg tucked up behind her. It didn't take much guesswork to figure out who the village chief was speaking to.

"Onoda-Sama, I realize that you want to increase our ranks…" Hitaishii said from behind the window, sounding almost as concerned as Chihiko's mother.

"But you cannot rush this…she still needs time to develop as a human-being. She still acts like a uniformed soldier both in and out of practice. She's not mature enough…"

"Is that not what we need? Soldiers? Hitaishii, we need people like her to fight for us. Sanraku and Munoto are past middle age…soon their abilities will lessen, diminish, and finally die out," Onoda said, his voice stern and intelligent, "She is the only one with the strength and skill to become a Jounin. Kichimata had faith in her ability…now that he is gone, I must ask that you do the same."

There was a moment in which Chihiko's sensei seemed to mull things over, thoughts churning.

"Hitaishii…we cannot let Konoha dwarf us any longer…" Onoda continued after the teacher failed to respond.

Chihiko felt her cheeks blush with honor, to be so needed by the village, by the chief himself.

"Why must we always compete with Konoha?" Hitaishii said, finally breaking his silence, "We are separate from them, there is no need for such competition."

"There is always competition...we are only allies in the lamest sense," resolute, Onoda spoke in the plainest of voices, "Even now, I'm sure that the other smaller nations are just like us, thinking of ways to become better, stronger…all to be comparable to nations like Konoha."

"But to what end? What do we earn from this…" Hitaishii asked.

The elderly chief laughed, voice cracking with amusement.

"Pride…pure and simple," he exclaimed, entertained by Hitaishii's naivety. "If we can increase our numbers, then we can offer more services to the surrounding villages. With this, our reputation will improve. It is especially important that we do this now, after the failed invasion on Konoha."

"You sound disappointed, Onoda-sama," Hitaishii noted with curiousness, "Konoha is not our enemy, we should be happy that the Sound Village's attempt to overthrow them was prevented."

Listening to each and every word, Chihiko breathed through her nostrils and tugged at the red rope tied around her neck in an attempt to quench her nerves. Hearing news of Zaku's village had increased her interest a thousand fold, made her back stiffen, pulling her from her languid position into a more prying one. From what Hitaishii was saying, it seemed as if the Zaku she knew wasn't the real Zaku at all…

She didn't want to think of him as the enemy, but…

"Happy? Why should I be so happy, to feel so defenseless because we have so few shinobi?" Onoda retorted, angered at Hitaishii's lack of patriotism. "If Konoha had not defeated them, then we'd probably be burned to the ground by now _and_ those three Sound brats that we carelessly allowed to enter our village 2 years ago would still be alive!"

Chihiko felt a small piece of her crack and crumble away, like an old piece of brick finally succumbing to years of abuse. A part of her wanted to scream, another told her to run.

_No…no…no…_her mind fumbled, thoughts staggered as she clasped her hands to the side of her head, the rest of her masters' conversation blocked away.

_It can't be true…just can't be…this is just a lie…all a lie…_

Everything seemed to become very quiet as Chihiko's heartbeat swallowed her up. Her legs shuddered and almost buckled, her tongue dry within her mouth. She felt dizzy, knocked senseless, as if she was fast asleep, and this was all some very bad dream. Her feet seemed to sink into the floor outside the chief's home.

_Run_ she told herself, teeth gnashed together. Her legs responded slowly at first, feet as heavy as lead weights, still mired by her confusion.

_RUN!_

Eyes closed for a moment, Chihiko willed herself to fly down the steps and back onto the road, arms pumping wildly, feet kicking dust behind her. She raced past the merchants and villagers, not caring that she nearly collided with a few of them, ignoring their calls of anger as she whipped by callously.

Chihiko could only hope that in a few moments, she would wake up, back in her bed with blue sheets.

But she knew all too well that it wasn't going to happen like that.

She was no longer in some fantasy world.

The dojo appeared before her like a building of sanctuary, her place of peace. Her feet moved up the stairs, carrying her higher and higher. She felt nauseous, ready to pass out at any moment, barely holding onto consciousness.

Before she even reached the front door, Chihiko had the key out and ready, clutched in her right hand. Her nose was shriveled in an effort to hold back the sobs and her eyebrows were so tightly drawn up and scrunched, it looked as if someone were pulling on them forcefully.

She tried to insert the rusted key into the single padlock, struggled to keep her thin fingers from trembling. But try as she might, it was impossible to hold still. The key finally fell loose from her quivering hand and clattered across the stairs, tumbling into the grass.

The girl slammed a single hand against the solid, heavy door as a thick trail of salty tears fell down around her nose, onto her chin, and finally off of her face.

"Zu-Zaku-san…" she stuttered, words barely escaping her mouth, heart thudding sadly within her sore ribcage. "You promised me…you promised me…"

She wanted to believe the impossible, that what she had heard was all some lie. But the truth was beginning to overwhelm her. She tried to convince herself otherwise, but now she found that it made the obvious reality that much more apparent and painful.

The answers were so far away from her. Everything was so blurry.

_This can't be true…I have to find out…_ her mind jogging, Chihiko eventually realized that the truth could not be found within this village. It was off in some far away place, somewhere foreign and strange.

But there was no way she could leave; it would be the ultimate crime against the village, what with her promotion only days away. Despite her every wish, she couldn't disobey Hitaishii or Onoda like this, couldn't insult Kichimata's memory with such insolence.

Her heart sagged with grief, trapped in this prison of obedience. She couldn't fight her own fate, she couldn't keep her end of the promise she had made so long ago.

_I can't do…anything…_ the tears from Chihiko's eyes flowed freely as she slammed the door again, frustrated, helpless and confused, cursing her emotions and the agony they caused her. A shinobi was supposed to remain steadfast on the battlefield. At that she was failing miserably.

From behind her, Chihiko heard slow, solemn footsteps. Someone walked up towards her and put both hands on her shoulders, as if to console her. A voice, one that was dry and airy, started to speak.

"I know your pain…now let me help you get what you need…"


	7. Lifting the Fog

Chapter six : Lifting the Fog

A single fly began to buzz around her face, but Chihiko paid it no mind, too focused on the owner of the voice behind her. The wind continued to whip about them, and the weather was actually very mild. It did nothing to ease the uneasy atmosphere that hung outside the Waterfall village dojo.

The air seemed vacant of feeling, of sensation, as Chihiko stood, eyes transfixed on the door before her. Her vision trailed onto the ground, the stone stairways. She saw a shadow that obviously was not her own. Instantly, the tears that had cluttered her eyes dissipated and her breathes became controlled and steady once more. It wasn't until the man removed his hands that she decided to speak.

"I know your voice," Chihiko answered, lips small and barely apart. If she was frightened at all, it wasn't showing. "Why are you here?"

"Zaku was a beloved student of mine, as were Dosu and Kin," the man said, voice saturated with grueling remorse. "When I learned of their deaths, I also wept, just as you do now."

At this, Chihiko finally removed herself from her spot in front of the dojo, slowly turning to face the man dressed in the purple Jounin uniform, showing him that there were no more tears to be shed.

She had already seen him in her mind's eye, had been able to place the voice with his malicious face, white like a vampire's. She quickly did a visual once-over, searching him for weapons, and even though she found none, that didn't mean a vile blade wasn't hidden beneath his vest. Even in her emotional turmoil, Chihiko never lost sight of the reality that she could not trust anyone now, this man especially.

"I understand your silence," without a trace of hesitation, the man brushed the back of his hand across the tender skin of Chihiko's cheek. He felt cold, colder then one's skin should feel in autumn, and the kunoichi felt repulsed by his touch. Chihiko fought to hide a tell-tale shudder and pushed his hand away with her own, a scornful look on her face.

"Why are you here?" she repeated her question, trying to forget the slimy, unearthly chill of his fingers, "You are a traitor, Orochinaho. You and your Sound Village betrayed Konoha and now you have returned. Your gall struggles to outshine your inane stupidity…"

"Brave and intelligent words…I couldn't expect any less from Waterfall's best shinobi," the Sound Jounin spoke slyly, trying to feed Chihiko's ego in an attempt to pacify her curiosity. He looked at her through those intruding, amber-colored eyes, and the tremor of intolerance threatened her.

It would take more then feeble attempts at flattery to persuade Chihiko, cause her to drop her guard, for she had no ego to speak of, no flames of narcissism to stroke.

"Why are you here? _Please_ don't make me ask again," Chihiko questioned a third time, ignoring Orochinaho's diversions, "I know all about you, all about the Sound Village's betrayal towards Konoha. You came here long ago, asking for our cooperation. We aided you in blind ignorance…don't count on being so lucky this time."

Chihiko stood her ground as a noble shinobi should, hands at her sides, face composed, although her mind was racing frantically, heart ready to burst forth from her chest; whether it was from fear or anticipation she could not decide. She was unarmed, her Aikido skills her only weapon. However, if this man was going to attack, he wasn't making it very obvious. Aside from his deep-rooted, nearly intrinsic wickedness, Chihiko could not sense any intent to attack.

"I'm here to tell you the truth, to tell you what you deserve to know," Orochinaho finally divulged, the corners of his mouth firm. Standing only a few inches from the girl, he searched her for signs of fear, navigating the surfaces of her face for wrinkles of apprehension. Although he was impressed by her courage, the ruthless Jounin would sooner have his tongue ripped from his mouth than admit it.

Chihiko waited patiently for him to continue, face as still as the stillest lake, her features unreadable.

"I assume you know the spinal-chord of the story, the barest details. Your chief probably went through _enormous_ pains to keep you in the dark," Orochinaho began, eyes closed and head tilted back, as if he were recalling some tragic past occurrence. "I can't blame him. Since you became a member of this village, your only concern has been to train, develop, improve."

Eyes wide and mouth agape, Chihiko was on fire with puzzlement. Orochinaho opened his eyes, slit irises gleaming.

"Yes, I know about you…" Orochinaho smiled a smile that seemed to have lost some of its bite, its edgy-deceit. For the briefest of moments, Chihiko felt at ease. Nibbling at her lower lip, she turned her eyes away, as if to protect herself from his influence.

"Word of your skill has reached many interested ears, and mine are definitely not excluded. But this is beside the point."

"Yes it is, stop mincing your words," Chihiko agreed scathingly. At this, Orochinaho snorted, realizing with a glint of absurd pleasure that he was actually bothering the normally level-headed girl. It was as if he enjoyed seeing her twitch with impatience, as if getting under her skin was some sort of personal goal of his.

"The point is, even though you think you know about the events of two-years-ago, you in-fact know very little," he said, "So I suggest you listen to me intently, educate yourself and try to make up for the last 15 years of blissful ignorance.

"There was indeed a calamity, one so great that it has caused a new piece of history to unfold. Konoha could never have foreseen the great betrayal, nor could I."

"But I thought it was the Sound ninja who betrayed the citizens of Konoha…how could you have been unaware of your own coup d'état?" Chihiko interrupted, raising a single eyebrow suspiciously.

"It was never in the Sound's agenda to overthrow Konoha, never was it our intention to invade," there was a hint of disdain in the Jounin's words, "_That_ was all the Sand's fault…it was they who decreed that it was Konoha's time to fall."

Chihiko knowledge of the Sand was sparse, who lived under the rule of the Kazekage, the wind shadow. Her only shred of knowledge was that they were incredibly elusive, and powerful. More then once Hitaishii had spoken of the Sand's incredible, long-standing history with Konoha, of the brittle alliance that barely held the two nations in balance. From what he had told her, it seemed as though the smallest disturbance – an unfriendly exchange of words, an otherwise unimportant scuffle – could tip that balance, causing an avalanche of regrettable events to occur.

"When all had failed and they finally realized their plans had gone inexplicably awry, the Sand conceded to their mistakes, begged for Konoha's forgiveness, and then blamed my village for the entire ordeal. They went so far as to send three of their mightiest soldiers to fight us as we fled, furthering Konoha's distrust in us," shaking his head dismally, Orochinaho clutched a single hand to his face, covering his eyes. "Those shameless Sand ninja have caused the ruin of my village in order to save their sly hides, using us as a scapegoat to cover their evil deeds. They had a vicious demon on their sides, but Konoha turned a blind eye to it, and instead the continued to harass and stalk us like wild animals with naked eyes full of hate."

Chihiko contemplated this for a while, not saying anything. She watched as Orochinaho became visibly irate, wondering when his brazen lies would stop and a shred of truth would finally reveal itself. He was shameless, speaking in low tones as if to stifle his emotions for the sake of courtesy, which made his barefaced lies all the more nauseating, Chihiko thought. He lied from the very marrow of his bones.

"And then," Orochinaho spoke again, pausing to add an emphasis that Chihiko duly noticed before he continued, "They did the most atrocious thing…"

An electric vibration stung the air as he reached into his vest, pulling a small sheet of paper from the inner pocket, folded twice-in on itself. There was a sudden feeling of sincerity in his actions as he looked at her, slipping what seemed to be a picture into Chihiko's lithe hands.

She looked at Orochinaho again, confused. Slowly, carefully, she unfolded the paper.

And then, her Jounin promotion, her life in the Waterfall village, Hitaishii, her parents – all of it seemed to be a vast, distant and fragile memory.

"Zaku-san…"

The back of her throat became dry, and she used her tongue to slicken the parched surfaces. But in her shock, she found that too to be just as dry, if not drier, and then there was nothing she could do to moisten her mouth.

Chihiko felt her own breath being knocked out from her lungs, for on that tiny sheet of photographic paper was a crumpled figure, helpless, perhaps dead, or at least dying. His features were almost unrecognizable amongst the dust and debris, but there was just enough there to recognize the agonized face of her friend, her only friend. She looked at the picture and felt a deep, sad sickness in her, like fear and horror combined.

"Zaku-san!" she repeated, voice becoming louder, strengthened by the immense power of reality.

Fingers gripping the edges of the photo, arms shaking violently, Chihiko collapsed onto the pebbled stairway that lead to the dojo. In a few seconds her anguish had overmastered her, causing her to be thrown into fits of sobbing grief, one that shook the very bones in her body.

She tore her eyes open, wishing with all her tiny, young heart that she could dash the photograph into a thousand small shreds of paper, so that she just might forget the ghastly image of her dear friend. But she controlled the violent urge, remembering her promise with Zaku, remembering the last and final time she saw him, cherishing that memory like a token of love.

Looking closer at the paper, Chihiko noticed the strain on his face as he lay painfully on his back, eyes squinted, nearly closed in unbearable discomfort. There was a small trickle of blood falling from his mouth, cascading down his charred and bruised cheek. She wished deep down that she could touch that hurt patch of skin, and found herself starting to hate Zaku for dying, for not keeping their promise alive.

But soon she realized how selfish she was being, and her hatred was transferred to herself, for not being there, for not being able to help him. She was being childish, immature, but then again, was she not still a child, forced to live the life of an adult too many years too soon?

A gasp rattled her as she then noticed that one of Zaku's right arm was no longer there, his limb terminating in a horrifying stump. Blood seemed to be pulsing strongly from the injury, and Chihiko felt her head swim with disgust, for amongst the pools of blood was something else. There were swarms of insects, clumped together so tightly that they looked like a squirming shadow, pouring from the gash. She'd never felt so weak.

"Yes, look what they did to him, when he had finally lost the will to fight for his own life," Orochinaho goaded her anger, her sadness, hoping to manipulate it into something useful, "And see the man behind him, the one who caused your friend, my beloved pupil, to die…"

Tears now dappling the stones below her, Chihiko wearily looked at the photo again, afraid of what else she would see. She had been so focused on the prone figure of Zaku that she had completely neglected the person standing behind him, glaring down menacingly, like a vulture over some nasty bit of carrion. He was only a few feet away from Zaku, at least that's what she assumed; it was hard to tell because the picture had been taken from a "worm's-eye-view" perspective. The entirety of his face was concealed by the tall, stiff collar of his jacket, which also covered his upper body and arms. Only a small portion of his face was visible, and even that was shielded mysteriously by a pair of sunglasses, making it very hard to discern the boy's emotions. On his forehead was a hitai-ate, and on the metal plate, shining menacingly, was the leaf symbol of Konoha.

"He's standing…so calmly, so nonchalantly…it's as if he doesn't even care that he's killed someone…" Chihiko said half to herself, shocking by the way the boy stood with his hands tucked deep within his jacket pockets. A shiver escalated from the base of her spine all the way to her nape as a particularly chilly breeze, festooned with autumnal leaves, soared by.

At once, Chihiko was unsure of what to believe, her mind spinning between the words of Hitaishii, her village chief, and now those of Orochinaho. It was so easy to get things wrong, and with no one to guide her, she felt confused, lost in a world that was frightening and cruel.

She looked back and forth between the photo, the ground, back to the photo once more, and then to the hands that held it, those worthless hands that made her feel so very useless. Chihiko heard the chastising words of Eijiro, the cart-owner, ringing in her ears:

_Why did you sit there, doing nothing!_

and then,

_What good are you if you have don't even have a sense of justice…_

"Why are you showing me this now? He died two-years-ago. Why now do you decide to come and bring me this ill-news?" Chihiko said hotly, cheeks flushed and eyes ruddy from crying. She looked up from her spot on the ground towards Orochinaho, as she sat painfully on her shins, knees together and feet splayed apart.

"Because what would you have done? Nothing…you would have done what any child would have done and not believed me, or been too scared to act," Orochinaho explained, "But now you are older, wiser, more skilled…And now I must ask you, what will you do?"

She stared Orochinaho full in the face, trying to see if he was mocking her in some way. But he seemed earnest now, and she believed that his feelings ran along hers, that he too felt the same pain that coursed through her weary, sorrow-stricken body. Her vision was blurred from both tears and a rising headache that was traveling from the base of her neck to behind her eyeballs.

"I…I don't know…I feel so many things…but I'm unsure of whether I should act upon them, if I should ignore the pain, or if I should just let it dwell within me, live with the pain…alone," Chihiko said.

At the very mention of the word "alone", Chihiko felt a great wave of rage and despair moving outward from a place deep within her, a place she feared to go. All her life she'd been alone, without companions outside the dojo, and now she would have to be alone again, and this infinitely precious blessing that had come to her must be taken away almost at once. She felt the wave build higher and steeper, she felt the crest tremble and begin to spill, she felt the great mass crashing down with the whole weight of the ocean.

And then she found herself gasping and shaking and crying aloud with more anger and pain than she had ever felt in her entire life.

How long the torment lasted, Chihiko couldn't tell, but the waves had to diminish at some time, had to ebb and creep back out to the abyss of the ocean. Her cries of pain and white-hot angst seemed to last an eternity, but Orochinaho waited patiently, giving her the time she needed to gather herself.

"Zaku-san…Zaku-san and I made a promise…that we would always be friends," Chihiko held back a strong sob, miffled it into what she hoped would sound like a cough, "And he told me that, no matter what, that he wouldn't be seen as trash. And now…and now look at him…"

She looked back down at the photo, feeling the pain that must have racked through Zaku's body as if it were her own pain.

Looking at Orochinaho, the two exchanged a glance that felt like a powerful electric spark; Chihiko said nothing, and instead nodded slightly.

"How will I get into Konoha undetected?" Chihiko finally spoke after several silent moments, "It's not like I can just stroll in."

"Of course not," Orochinaho responded, voice severe and solemn, "Although I'm a bit surprised you're actually considering this…are you sure you want to go through with this?"

Doubting herself, Chihiko knew what she wanted to do, what her heart was telling her to do. But her training, her promotion, her teachers…by leaving them behind, it would be a serious offense to all of them. The photo beckoned her again, trying to push her in one direction, while her devotion to the Waterfall village pulled her back.

_We'll be friends…always…_

_Zaku-san_…she thought, and with one final push from her heart, which until now had been dormant all her life, Chihiko crumpled the paper, the face of Zaku's murdered firmly cast into her memory.

"Tell me what I must do," seeking the direction of the Jounin dressed in purple garb, Chihiko returned to her automaton state, mind full with purpose. Her emotions were smattered aside as obedience stepped in.

And so the two formulated a simple, yet effective, plan. It would take place over the course of six to seven days, at the most, and Chihiko would go alone. She questioned why Orochinaho would not accompany her, to help her exact revenge on the insect-shinobi. Zaku had been his student, after all, why wouldn't he want to be a part of this mission?

Orochinaho quickly satisfied her inquiry, explaining that his face would be in every ANBU's bingo book, that they were already on his tail. However, Chihiko wasn't so infamous. Konoha wouldn't be on the lookout for her, Orochinaho said, and, provided with a passport (cleverly forged, of course, by Orochinaho himself), her chances for success were much higher then if he were to go with her.

This was something she had to do by herself, and although she wasn't unused to solitary missions (it wasn't like the village had shinobi to spare), the thought of going into a foreign village on an unauthorized, private assignment unsettled her.

Could she ever go back to the completely restrictive lifestyle within the dojo after tasting the freedom of volition, of choice? More importantly, would she be allowed to?

"I'm glad that you're finally seeing things in a new light, Chihiko-san," Orochinaho said, his face bright with bliss, "I want you to understand this above all: Konoha is the enemy, they murdered your friend, attacked my village, and sooner or later, they will do the same to this peaceful village. I'm almost positive they are conspiring with the Sand, building their forces, readying themselves to take over all the smaller shinobi nations. Waterfall will most certainly be the first on their hit-list. Your aren't just doing this for yourself, for us, you're doing this for the protection of your own village. It's the most righteous thing a shinobi can do."

When he said this, Chihiko felt the tension in her mind lessen, even if it was only by a little. He had far to go before she would listen with the rapt and silence that she gave to Hitaishii. If she was doing this for anyone, it wasn't for herself, for Orochinaho, or the village. She was doing this for Zaku, to pay him the respect she felt he deserved.

"When should I leave?" Chihiko asked, her mission the only thing on her mind.

"As soon as possible, after you've prepared for your journey," Orochinaho instructed. He then pointed to the small manila envelope that Chihiko held close to her chest, "Along with your passport is a map which should lead you along the quickest path into Konoha."

"I understand," Chihiko answered, but then she wasn't so sure of herself, and she continued, "But what of my village now…if I leave, what will happen? Everything I worked so hard to achieve could be forfeit."

"Is your friend's memory not worth risking everything for?" raising an eyebrow, Orochinaho spoke to Chihiko as if to chastise her, "As I mentioned before, this is all in effort to help your village…I know of your chief's contempt for Konoha, and I don't believe they would be so eager to oust such a stellar shinobi such as you."

Once more he threw compliments into Chihiko's arms, and yet again they vanished before reaching her.

"I would not be so sure of that, Orochinaho-kun," Chihiko said, "I have been abandoned before, it would not be an arduous task to have it done again. I am as usable as I am disposable."

"Such negative thoughts! Please don't go about doubting yourself in such a way!" Orochinaho snickered, amused by the girl's humility, "I have no reason to suspect that the chief would discard you so easily."

Chihiko half-listened to Orochinaho's words, her allegiance torn between the shattered memory of her dearest, her only friend, and her home, the people that had taken her in when her own parents would not. These people had cared for her long before she had even known Zaku, and she definitely trusted them more then she did Orochinaho.

Before she could dwell on the matter for another instant, Orochinaho, sensing her hesitation, broke into her thoughts with a pat on her shoulders, taking matters into his own hands.

"Zaku would have wanted _only_ you to beget justice on his murderer…he spoke of you as if you were his only confident," Orochinaho said, a bitter smile pulling his mouth down at the corners.

To his utter disbelief, Chihiko took a few steps away from the door, heading down the stairs, acting as though his last words had been completely disregarded. His throat emitted a low, nearly inaudible growl.

"Where are you going?" Orochinaho asked, a hint of anger rising in his voice. Chihiko thought she could detect a peculiar smell coming from him, something metallic, like two pieces of metal being rubbed against one another, becoming hot and agitated.

"I'm going to pack…"she replied shortly, tired of his sweet-talk, and with her back turned, she went on to say, "And I want something understood.

"This is not something I'm going to enjoy. I've killed many shinobi as part of a mission's objective. I'm used to being given orders. Now I'm acting outside of orders, outside of my chief's decisions, and quite frankly, I'm full of doubt. It frightens me. Doubt is a human thing, and I am only a tool, a human shell that happens to be filled with a soul meant to carry out the desires of those above me.

"So I want you to remember one thing: once I'm finished, I will return to this life, I will return to this village and forget ever seeing you here. I never want to smell your presence, see your face, sense your intentions, ever again. Do I make myself clear?"

She didn't wait for the Sound shinobi to answer, because there was nothing to debate or discuss. These were her only demands, perhaps the only demands she would ever make in her life.

Chihiko slowly, resolutely, made her way down the stairs, unaware that behind her, the man in the purple Jounin vest was smiling horribly, his teeth gleaming like high-polished chrome.


	8. Into the Wilderness

Chapter seven : Into the Wilderness

She packed quickly, deciding that the more she took, the longer her journey towards Konoha would take. Opening up the small rucksack that attached to the back of her skirt, she hastily flung in some assorted toiletries, such as soap and toothpaste, as well as several changes of undergarments. If she was going to occupy the foreign country for more then 4 days, she would be damned if she was going to do it in dirty underwear.

She then threw in a large pouch full of ryo. All her life, she had never spent lavishly, saving her modest earnings from the missions she was assigned. There was no space in her pack for food, not even some dried fish-jerky her mother had made the other night; she would have to pay for all her meals once inside Konoha. In the wild, the bounty of nature would have to do. Chihiko knew enough about living in the forest to know which mushrooms and fruits were safe to eat, and which ones would leave you rendered helpless with a sour stomach, or worse, death. She respected nature, and in return, it respected her.

Last of all she packed her hitai-ate, which was made from the same yellow cloth as the rest of her outfit, although the metal forehead protector was the same shape and make as all the others. This she placed in very carefully, folding the sash several times so that it took up as little space as possible.

Once she had finished, Chihiko carefully buttoned the pouch to her skirt, measuring its weight, how it would move when she ran or jumped. It was a little on the heavy side, most likely from the money she was bringing, but it would have to suffice. She wasn't going to resort to stealing while inhabiting the Fire Country.

Chihiko had considered at first to wear her Aikido gear, thinking that the hakama pants would provide her with better protection and comfort during her trek into the overgrown forest. But then she realized that once in Konoha, she would need to appear as harmless as possible. Dressed in martial arts gear wouldn't achieve that as successfully as civilian's clothes would.

She moved around her bed, taking one last look at her room, so barren and piecemealed together. However lackluster or boring it seemed, it was still her room in her home; it was the place she had slept in for the last fifteen years. Chihiko sighed quietly, hoping that this room would still be open to her once she returned. Her heart sunk at the thought of coming home to find her room turned into a storage-closet.

Grimacing, she stroked the leaves of the potted Aralia for luck, as if she could draw some strength or hope or goodness from it. As she passed her desk, she quickly grabbed the fake passport and map that Orochinaho had given her; these she tucked into the black weapon holster that was wrapped securely around her right thigh. Since Chihiko never carried kunai or throwing stars, she usually filled the holster with herbs or salves. She would have to do without them this time.

As she exited the room, she resisted the fervent urge to turn around. This would be the last time she set foot inside these walls for at least a week, perhaps forever. A lump rose in her throat.

Was this really the right thing to do?

She willed the thought out of her head, dug her thumbnail into her palm. The sharp jabbing sensation worked to muster her resolve. Tightening the bandages around her knuckles, Chihiko walked past the familiar sights of the old house, the aged grandfather clock, the modest living room with the coffee table and mingei display stand cluttered with picture frames, many which contained photos of Chihiko with her parents. A stab of guilt punctured her heart as she glanced briefly at those happy images, of the times in which she had been so ignorant. To be so lost in bliss, unaware of the trouble around her – Chihiko almost longed for it again.

Pushing aside the Shoji sliding door, Chihiko took a long breath of the outside air, removing herself of all guilt and hesitation. She couldn't be hindered those emotions, she was a shinobi, a tool. This was nothing more then another mission on a different day.

Slowly closing the door behind her, Chihiko walked down the front stairs, making her way towards the exit. Her task had been well-timed, for the late afternoon sun provided her with the best cover to slip out of the village unnoticed. There were scarcely any villagers wandering the streets now; all were preparing for dinner. As for Chihiko's own parents, they had gone out for the night, leaving her to tend for herself. She hoped that they wouldn't return until the following morning. Chihiko wanted her mission to remain as secret as possible; the sooner her plot was discovered, the sooner a rescue team would be dispatched. If anything, she could lead them to believe she had been kidnapped.

She moved quickly, as far away from the center road that cut through the entire village, for it was wide and well-lit. There was a tangle of narrow streets that would provide her the cover she needed, and into that dark maze she hurried now. Darkness began to overtake the world, the air becoming still and frosty. The September sun died into the west, making room for a waning moon to claim dominion over the sky. But Chihiko paid this no mind, her bare shoulders hardly registering the cold, even if they were becoming red from the wind.

Several minutes later she arrived at not the front gate, for that would be so obvious, so foolish. There were always two guards, adamant at their posts. No, Chihiko knew better then to try and trot out the front-door, so to speak. Instead, she searched for a secret exit, one that only the street-urchins and trouble-makers knew of, located only 20 feet from the guard's station. As a child, she had seen many children creep out of the village this way, and if it worked for them, it would surely work for her as well. It was nothing more then a loose plank of wood in the looming front gate that, when pushed correctly, would fall through. It was a wonder that no one had fixed it yet, but Chihiko only cared that the secret exit had gone unnoticed; the loose board was located behind a thick collection of thorny, thick-branched bushes, and this was probably why none of the adults knew of it.

Her arms moved through the undergrowth and brush delicately, fingers weaving and winding so as not to be scratched up against the thorns that decorated the twigs. The tips of her fingers were exposed, and once or twice the soft flesh would scrape up against a thorn or two. Chihiko ignored the pain, disregarded the fresh blood, continuing to push around through the vegetation until finally she saw the wooden plank. It was identical to all the rest, distinguishable only by the little chip on the bottom left. Chihiko's keen eyes, even in the dark, found this indication at once, and she maneuvered through the bushes, the nicks on her knees and legs turning into larger and larger cuts.

After some time, she eventually reached the panel, and with both hands, she pushed softly on the wooden board, hoping that it didn't creak once it moved.

_Please…_she thought to herself as she noticed the board beginning to shift. At first it made a dull creak, which probably seemed louder then it really was. Chihiko stopped at once, making sure that none of the guards had registered the low, obtrusive noise.

Making sure it was safe to carry on, Chihiko gave one last nudge and the board swung upwards and away from her. There was surprisingly little room to work with, and although Chihiko wasn't large by any standards, she was no where near as small as the aforementioned street-urchins. However, this was her only option; she wasn't about to try and turn back, attempt to trick the guards into letting her leave. And using her chakra to run up the sides of the walls was also out of the question; she had done it enough times to know how much noise it would make, no matter how slowly she moved. The looming fence encircled the entire village, and every 50 feet or so was a pair of guards, each armed to the teeth, at least by Waterfall's dismal standards.

No, this was the only way, and so, sucking in her stomach to make herself as small as possible, she started to squeeze through the hole, her dreads dragging on the ground beneath her. The stones poked at her stomach as Chihiko crawled, digging into the skin of her thighs and shins.

Chihiko thought she was doing well until suddenly she felt something catch, snag, on the wooden planks; she hoped her pack wasn't lodged in along the sides of the hole. Twisting her neck, she tried to look behind her, and she nearly let go of her breath when she realized that it wasn't her pouch that had stopped her, but her hips, which had recently started to develop as she entered into that mysterious stage of life called puberty. She was far from buxom, but the increased width was just enough to cause her to become stuck so that she couldn't clear the gap.

Moaning to herself, she repositioned herself around slowly until she was on her side instead of her stomach, so that her hips were no longer in the way. Pulling with her arms, Chihiko wiggled through the hole, feeling actually rather silly; she must have looked ridiculous.

Standing up once she had cleared the secret exit, Chihiko brushed the rocks, grass and twigs from her hair and clothes, hoping that nothing had torn during the process. She didn't want to look too suspicious amongst the other citizens, and it wouldn't do to arrive dressed in muddied and ragged gear, covered head-to-toe in filth.

With the thickness of night covering her, Chihiko left the outskirts of the village. Turning away from the village she had been raised in, she looked towards the moon, and moved into the South.

------------------------------------------

Many hours passed and Chihiko was still walking steadily through the heavily-wooded forest. She consulted the map often, making sure that she stayed on course. Thankfully, the cartographer who had drafted the chart had been highly skilled, because so far everything that appeared on the map was showing up in reality, from the slightest hill to the smallest lake or ravine. It made her job of getting through the forest as straightforward as possible.

By herself, trotting through the woodland areas without the hindrances of company, Chihiko felt at ease. Since there was no one to offer their opinion or thoughts, there was no one to tell her that what she was doing, from the pace she took to the direction she was going, was wrong. She was at her leisure to do what she wanted, or what she thought was right.

Even with this newfound freedom, Chihiko knew she didn't have the time to meander, admire the scenery and smell the flowers, which was a shame. The beauty of the forest was compelling to say the least, with lush plant life and flora surrounding her at every turn. Each branch of every tree seemed to contain several forms of life, from insects to birds, all contained within a balanced, perfect ecosystem. Everything seemed at peace, coexisting without caring why they had to; they just did. Chihiko wondered why the shinobi nations couldn't do the same.

"Why can't this mindless competition end?" Chihiko asked herself dryly, glancing at the map as she turned around a fresh corner, moving into a new sector of the wood.

As she entered a new clearing, Chihiko felt her body stiffen, as if something dying had touched her soul, and she stopped at once. At first, she thought perhaps she had sensed the vile intentions of some spying animal, one that would love nothing more then to smash her skull between its hungry, strong jaws; the girl prepared herself for such an attack, if only mentally.

Searching the area, Chihiko found that it was very spacious, with very few places to hide in, a good thing for her since this eliminated the chance for a surprise attack. It was a large, circular section of the forest, with small patches of shrubbery darting the ground. Dividing the clearing in half was a river. It was when she looked at the flowing water that the strong, remarkable and old sensation arose in her again.

A warmth began to culminate within her body, like some ancient feeling stirring after so many years of rest. Those feelings slowly began to form into words, slow and trembling, quivering inside her heart.

Something about this forest was vaguely familiar. Maybe she had seen it before in a dream, or perhaps had even passed by it before on a previous mission. Whatever the connection Chihiko had with this particular patch of forest, it had been reborn with a violent ferocity now. Her heart thudding, fingers tingling, Chihiko suddenly wondered if perhaps she was finally becoming tired, and that was why she was experiencing such vivid, strange pangs. Now that she thought about it, she had been walking for nearly twelve hours with no rest or water. Her feet were finally beginning to feel sore within the confines of her yellow boots and slowly, little by little, her stomach was starting to growl.

"Perhaps its time to finally rest," she admitted, looking up at the sky. The sun had reached and surpassed its zenith, and late afternoon was upon the earth. It was too early to make camp, but a small nap couldn't hurt, just enough to keep her going.

"I guess this will do."

She found a piece of forest floor that had the fewest amount of rocks in it, and was covered with soft crab grass. It looked comfortable, and once she had sat down on it, smoothing the blades down with her legs and arms, Chihiko was pleased to find that it was rather comfy. The cool air from the river wafted around her, calming her excited nerves, and she soon found herself slumping onto the ground, resting on her back so that she could look up and see what was all around her. Chihiko relaxed her brain, which was as cramped and racked as the strained muscles in her legs.

Soon, sooner then she could have ever expected, with the sounds of the river and the birds and the wind all sounding at once, and the grass cold and velvety against her tired skin, Chihiko fell into a deep sleep.

------------------------------------------

_No light shone from the iron-dark sky and a peculiar mist obscured the horizon on every side. The ground was bare earth, beaten flat by the pressure of millions of feet, and yet there was no one here; it must have been time that pressed it flat. Nothing moved, nothing breathed. _

_Chihiko stood in the midst of the barren plain at the end of all things, apparently alone, yet she knew this was simply not so. There was a deep agony filling this place, and all at once, so terrible and sad that it could be thought of as a tangible, touchable thing._

"_You've finally come to me."_

_The voice startled her, although it was as soft as dry leaves scraping on a stony surface, a pale sound that barely reached Chihiko's ears. _

"_Who is it? Who is out there?" Chihiko called to the owner of the soft, sad voice. _

"_I am here, I have been here for so very long…"_

_The voice seemed to come from all directions, from under her, from above, and part of her thought the voice was actually inside her head, speaking to her from within. Chihiko opened her eyes wide as a wind devoid of life rustled her hair. _

"_Show yourself, why have you brought me here?" she asked, not trying to sound needy, but rather, confused. _

_At first, nothing, but then the wind altered itself, and Chihiko turned to face the new direction in which it was blowing. She gazed at the source of the voice._

_From nowhere, a fragmented image began to materialize in front of her, its outline blurred so that it nearly melded with the air around it. It was like a sad shadow that had lost its owner, and was now stuck in limbo, searching for something to cast itself off of. _

_Chihiko squinted her eyes, trying to make sense of the hazy creature in front of her. Moving closer to it, she soon detected a face, obscured by a thousand unhappy emotions, and Chihiko gave a cry so loud that even in the muffled, mist-hung world it raised an echo. _

_It was a featureless being, maybe even a soul or ghost, with a face that lacked any discernable features except for a few dips where a mouth and two eyes might have once been. Chihiko thought that even without a truly physical form, she sensed that the creature was helpless and beaten, so sunk with misery that it was more misery than creature. She felt great pity for it, even if she had no idea what "it" was. _

_Every hair on her flesh was upright with alarm._

"_I have been here for so very long…waiting…longing…" the sad voice spoke again, even softer this time, so that Chihiko had to lean forwards to hear it. _

"_I was killed by humans, tricked by humans…and yet wanted by humans. They are evil…they are vile…they are greedy and glutinous. There is no good in them, nor will there ever be."_

_Chihiko sensed that the creature was trying to emit anger, frustration. It was still so tired though, so weak, its voice too quiet to be regarded as being furious. The creature had little power of its own, and it was as frightened and full of pain as Chihiko was. _

"_They must all be punished, Chihiko, for what they did to me…what they are still doing to you…you must do it…for us…"_

_Suddenly, before Chihiko could react, the enigmatic spirit rushed forward with a perilous speed that astonished the kunoichi. It had as much substance as fog, and as it tried to touch Chihiko, she felt a quick succession of cold, delicate brushing sensations as its form passed through her again and again, warming itself with the flowing blood and strong-beating heart of the young girl._

_Her mind slowly becoming possessed by the creature's alluring sadness, she felt herself becoming one with it, her intentions, thoughts, feelings, and desires being shared with that of the creature. _

_And then it finally became so clear to her. Unpredictably and without warning, she finally understood that there was only one thing that she should do in Konoha, and that was-_

------------------------------------------

The dream ended.

Chihiko awoke from a rest she thought must have lasted a few hours at least. A strange wetness had settled on her face, and when she opened her eyes, droplets of what she soon realized was sweat immediately slid into then, causing her to blink in surprise. Wiping her face as she struggled into consciousness, the girl sat upright at once to brush off the sleepy miasma that had overtaken her.

Her eyes were still heavy, and she felt racked with yawns and the need to stretch, but Chihiko already felt her mind rousing with awareness as her heart beat faster.

"Damn, I hadn't meant to sleep for so long," Chihiko grumbled, noting the position of the sun in the sky. It was probably nearing four in the afternoon. Crickets were already beginning to chirp loudly in the background, setting the mood for nightfall. Since she had already rested, it would be a long time before she would need to sleep again.

"I guess it's going to be a dark journey from here on out…"

Picking herself off the forest floor, Chihiko turned to look at the river, trying to remember her dream. Though she could recall bits and pieces – the desolate plain, the feelings of sorrow – it was beyond her to recollect her conversation with the sad creature. She knew it had been there, could nearly feel its chilly touch still wrapped around her, but that was where her memory stopped.

Chihiko sighed, wondering if it had all been a consequence of her tiredness, if this was all just fatigue speaking to her in dream-form.

She was a realist, one to always veer towards the more logical path, and so Chihiko put her dream into the farthest corner of her mind. She checked her weapons holster and her rucksack, making sure that nothing had fallen loose during her slumber. The hitai-ate in her pouch felt heavier then usual, and Chihiko wondered if this was because of her rising guilt…she had completely forgotten about her parents this entire time; by now they must be worried sick, wondering where their "daughter" had gone, hoping that she was okay, that she was safe.

_Can't think about that now… _she thought, opening her holster and pulling out the folded piece of paper that was inside.

Checking her map one more time, Chihiko was pleased to see that Konoha wasn't too far off; she should reach it by day break if nothing got in her way. The sooner she completed her business and returned to the Waterfall village, the better.

Breathing silently, Chihiko started for the Fire Country, for the village hidden in leaves.


	9. The Fire Country

Chapter eight : The Fire Country

Chihiko climbed up the side of the mountain range that bordered the expansive village, a natural enclosure to shut out intruders.

"It's better than the barnyard fence back home," she quietly mused, smiling dryly as her hands and feet worked in tandem to deftly scale the crumbling, rocky surface, thinking back to the rickety gate that barely fortified her hometown.

It seemed to trail on for ages, the top ridge of the crag always so far in front of her, at least thirty feet away if not more. Her hand bandages were already soaked in sweat, and the insides of her legs were now becoming irritated from the strap of her thigh holster, red and sore and inflamed. With every movement she made, the feelings of discomfort elevated in lunging bounds, from mere annoyance to now unbearable pain. Her calves were cramped from the long two day journey through the forest, and now every thread of strength was dwindling from her body like an unraveling spool of yarn.

"Stupid me, I thought this was going to be the easy part," Chihiko growled to herself, pulling herself up another section of the mountain, gazing up towards the peak, the blistering wind doing nothing to cool her off; instead it attempted to pluck her off the rock face, dashing about her in forceful gusts.

As she placed her foot into a tiny, feeble looking crevice, it suddenly fell through, sending her legs flailing, scrambling for another safe-hold. The chunk of rock that had crumbled off clattered down towards the base of the mountain. Each time it crashed against the cliff it became less of a rock and more of a pebble, bits of it being chewed away quickly until it was no more then a grain. Chihiko thought grimly about how the very same thing would happen to her bones if she had the misfortune to fall.

Pushing with her legs and pulling with all of her upper body, Chihiko finally grasped the upper rim of the cliff. She gave a short cry, so out of breath that her lungs seemed to be the size of golf balls, and then hurled herself up, skillfully rolling into an upright crouching position on the summit. She was a graceful creature; slumping onto the top of the mountain like a sack of vegetables just wouldn't be right.

Chihiko ignored the immense amounts of perspiration that was spilling off of her face and focused on the view that lay before her.

In all her life, she had only really known the Waterfall village, and it had seemed quaint and nice and charming. There wasn't really anything _wrong_ with it, per sé, but there was ample room for improvement. Buildings were in shambles and their weapons supply was always sparse as most of the residents were farmers, not shinobi.

Everything that spilled out beyond the crest of the great mountain range, however, seemed to contrast all that Chihiko knew. The tops of the buildings seemed to rival those of the very rocks she stood on, and each one was brilliant and shining, with banners and flags waving in the gentle breeze, coloring the wind like paint on a canvas. Signs of all shapes and sizes dotted the multitudes of shops and houses, so that everything seemed accessorized and dolled up.

As her eyes took in the magnanimous view, Chihiko held her breath in awe as she saw the opposite side of village, at the towering mountain that had been fashioned into a natural monument. Etched into the rock and granite were the faces of what Chihiko took to be Konoha's previous Hokages. There were four male faces, their jawbones strong and bold like the mountain itself, and on the farthest right hand side was a female, who seemed just as powerful, if not a little intimidating. It must have taken dozens of months and men to carve those stony portraits, and Chihiko's village leader, who she held in the highest esteem, now seemed very small and very powerless.

And then all the people! Even from up high on the cliffs, Chihiko could see the dizzying number of citizens that lived in Konoha, all bustling around, moving like a cloud of energy through the streets. The entirety of Waterfall's population would have only filled the tiniest corner of the Leaf Village, and Chihiko suddenly felt her face pale-over with doubt; with such a huge village before her, it would take her forever to locate her target, and even if she managed to do that, would she even be much of a match for him? An establishment of this size, so powerfully huge and magnificent must harbor some equally mighty warriors. Would Chihiko even stand a chance?

The powerful, granite faces of the Hokages loomed at her disapprovingly, and Chihiko began to regret ever setting foot near the village. She clutched herself, arms crossed over her chest, hands grasping her knobby elbows.

_They must all be punished, Chihiko, for what they did to me…what they are still doing to you…you must do it…for us…_

A vivid, concentrated spasm rocked her body and Chihiko nearly tumbled off the ridge she was standing on, feet trembling within her boots. She caught herself just in time, remembering the small, falling rock from before; a spill down these cliffs would almost certainly prove fatal. The intense seizure coupled with her already thriving fatigue forced her onto her knees.

"What _was_ that?" she asked herself, faint and lightheaded, arms too tingly to settle.

Her vision was blurry, hazy almost, as if everything was masked with a beige veneer. She hastily rubbed her eyes as a pins-and-needles sensation slowly worked its way down her body, finally exiting through toes.

Only when she knew she had full control over her limbs did Chihiko open her eyes struggle back up on her feet. She felt as if the ache in her biceps and calves had tripled, and Chihiko longed for a warm bath and rest, exhaustion festering in her skin and bones.

"I'm not even in the village yet…I don't even know where the inns are…" Chihiko noted to herself as her breathes steadied from ragged gasps to controlled exhalations. Her heart was still thudding beneath her breast, so frantic that it could nearly be seen thumping against her skin, but at least she wasn't at risk of plummeting down the mountain, bashing up against the rocks like a rotting carcass being tossed away. A breath of fresh energy was already mounting within her, a phenomenon some referred to as "Second Wind".

"Need to take things one step at a time…"

By "one step", Chihiko of course meant "one leap", and she soon kicked off from her spot, cascading down the rock and crags like a stream weaving through the crevices of a fragmented and old stone. She moved like a creature, like a mountain goat that seems to act without fear or hesitation, its delicate hoofs bounding off the boulders like four rubber bouncing ball. By focusing her chakra into her boots, there was never a moment in which she might have slipped off a wet or unstable stone as she descended down the rock face, wind whipping past her as she sped down, movements elegant and effortless.

In no time at all Chihiko reached the other side of the mountain. When her feet touched the grassy knoll far outside the village gate, a spell of seriousness swept over her, for she knew her mission was finally beginning. There beyond the patches of grass was the start of a pebbled road that led through the gate and into the village. It was at those cobbles that Chihiko leered.

This was it. She could turn back now, return to the world she knew, had been accustomed to, and forget all of this as if it were some bad dream.

It would be easy; no one would blame her. No one had to know what really happened.

_We'll be friends…always…_

As quickly as it had come, the moment of weakness left Chihiko at the remembrance of those few words, the last that she had said to Zaku. She had come here for him, for the memory of him. She couldn't leave now, not when she'd hardly even begun.

Nodding to herself, Chihiko adamantly marched for the open gate, noting how sturdy it looked, admiring the fine craftwork that had been used. Strong ropes that looked as if they could hold fast in the most turbulent of storms secured the solid logs together tightly. The entire structure was about 15 feet higher then the Waterfall's gate, and several times more reliable.

As she neared the entrance to Konoha, two guards, both dressed in warm suits came into view just beyond the open threshold, both seated at a covered booth, not looking concerned at all. Instead, at least to Chihiko, they seemed nonchalant and disinterested. Was Konoha so powerful that they didn't even care if foreigners arrived in their village uninvited? Had supremacy lead them into arrogance?

Chihiko knew she could advantage of this; if they didn't see her as a threat, it would make infiltrating the village easier then she had ever expected. The Waterfall village was distrusting of all others; a foreigner, no matter how friendly they appeared to be, would never get in without a surge of questions and a healthy dose of interrogation.

She walked closer, making herself calm, small, and uninteresting. True invisibility, through the use of some manner of Genjutsu, was not possible at this time; her trek up and down the mountain had drained her tremendously. At this point she probably couldn't successfully hold the illusion. Instead, in lieu of such tiresome ninja arts, the white-haired girl relied on a kind of fiercely held modesty that simply made her unnoticed. By composing herself in such a manner, she could deflect attention completely. It was a common trick that she used in crowded rooms and busy streets to avoid being seen.

Closer, closer yet, and soon she was upon the two guards, walking quietly along. One of them was resting his feet on the booth's desk, the other absorbed in some periodical. Chihiko tried not to eye them curiously, plastering her vision on the road in front of her, her boots clicking on the well-made stone road that was at least twenty feet across. She stole a glance at the watchmen, and then found that she was still safe; they still hadn't noticed her. Gripping her hands, she passed by, quickening her pace just by a little. The booth was soon behind her. She walked faster yet, becoming inpatient.

"Hey! You!"

The voice from behind startled her; her agitation had made her visible once more.

"I'm talking to you!" the same person called out again, this time a little louder, as if Chihiko hadn't heard him the first time. Gulping, the girl turned around, not too slowly as if to look stupid, but not too quickly to seem on edge. The man who had been reading was now standing up from his folding-chair seat and looking at Chihiko intensely. Despite his uniform, which was neatly pressed and clean, his spiky, chaotic hair and the bandage draped over the bridge of his nose gave him an almost childish appearance.

"Yes? Is there something wrong?" Chihiko responded maturely, trying to seem as charming and eloquent as possible. She was unaccustomed to lying and deceit, but she new that all adults had one weakness: they always believed they knew what children were up to.

"Only that I've been watching this post for three years now, and I've never seen you before," the guard answered, pointing at his chest proudly. Chihiko thought he was acting rather bouffant; seemed to her that he was just a vainglorious watchdog.

"Oh, yes, I'm sorry," Chihiko smiled a warm smile, forcing herself to blush as she sheepishly walked back towards the booth. Unfastening the latch on her leg holster, she pulled out the forged passport, hoping that she could trust Orochinaho's handiwork even if she didn't trust the man himself.

"I suppose this is what you need?"

Flashing the passport knowingly, Chihiko felt a ball of tension building in her. The one guard eyed it over several times, leaning over the front of the desk, scrutinizing it carefully. Perhaps Chihiko had been wrong about their arrogance and trust after all.

"Oi, Kotetsu, give it a rest…" the other guard chimed in, annoyed by all the fidgeting. He pulled his legs off the table casually, letting his sandals slap on the ground noisily. "Interrogating the poor-girl isn't going to make the sun move any faster. She's probably just some messenger from…"

The man paused as he glanced at the passport quickly, flashing a grin at Chihiko, one that made her just a little bit uncomfortable.

"The Waterfall village? Don't see many of you around here. Anyway, she seems candid to me."

"Thank you, I'll only be in the village for a short time," Chihiko slowly exhaled, the knot in her chest loosening just a little and she placed her identification back into the safety of her leg holster. Not wanting to push her luck, she started to turn away as the man closed his eyes, obviously preparing to pile on the charm.

"Well, you have a nice stay," the man answered, straightening the bandanna on his head, "You know, the village is pretty big, and if this is your first time here, you might get lost. I get off in a few, how about a show you arou-"

He opened his eyes again, astonished to find that the girl was suddenly gone, already far into the village. Blinking his eyes, stuck in a sort of bewilderment, the guard slouched back into his chair, legs parted and hands draped languidly to his sides. He turned to look at his colleague only to see that he too was ignoring him as well, nose stuck in his magazine once more.

------------------------------------------

Now inside the village, Chihiko put her most inoffensive face on, melding in with the other citizens. When a person offered her a "hello" or a wave, she answered it as if she had known them all her life. After awhile, this sort of behavior started to grow on Chihiko. Even though these people would forget her within minutes, for now, at least in pretend, they were her companions. This sort of masquerade reminded her of the thrill she had experienced when she had met Zaku, and she suddenly realized with a pang of guilt that no one here or anywhere could compare to him. There was nothing in the world that could compare with your first true friend.

Right away, she stopped with the artificial, imitated salutations. She was a visitor, an intruder even, not some permanent resident familiar with these people and the streets they traversed. Even though it made sense to assimilate with those around her while on a mission, Chihiko refused to act as if she knew these people, refused to sully the purity of her bond with the Waterfall village and with Zaku. With an impartial eye, she resumed her search through the town.

Something she noticed immediately was the atmosphere of Konoha. Everyone seemed so friendly and open-armed, so full of vigor, whereas in the Waterfall village everyone seemed to struggle just to make ends meet. The longer she observed her surroundings, the more she came to understand that her home village was a dreary place, a mere stick in the mud when compared to this opulent shinobi metropolis.

_So this is why the chief is so envious of Konoha…can't say I blame him_, she thought to herself as she entered what she took to be one of many market places. Rows upon rows of stalls were already in full-boom, customers lining up for miles to purchase fresh produce and fish, to gaze longingly at expensive clothing and glittering jewelry.

But then with a small smile, Chihiko realized that this sort of thing wasn't really for her, this bustle and hustle didn't suit her very well. She desired peace at the end of the day, the calm of her quiet, if not barren, dojo, the solitude the vacant streets of her village provided. Sure, things were pretty and fascinating and all that, and she was certain there were some who could grow comfortable with such a rampant world, but for Chihiko it was all too much. Already, a faint headache was beginning to swell in her head, the clamor of the busy streets bombarding her senses. This was so new to her; Chihiko hoped she could retain the facade of an acclimated citizen for the remainder of her mission.

One thing Chihiko was grateful for was the fact that she'd chosen to wear her civilian clothes. When she'd first arrived in Konoha, she'd noticed how brilliant the buildings were. Now she realized that the people of this town were just as brightly colored, dressed in all sorts of colors, from pinks to oranges, dark blues to the brightest pastels. With her outfit of happy yellow, even if it was a muted hue, she at least to be just another anybody. Her drab sparring gear would have attracted far too much attention, just as she had presumed.

_Now if only this thing offered me some more modesty! _Chihiko thought again as she pulled the skirt down as far as it would go, wishing that it were a few inches longer. However, it seemed to be the fashion around here, as she looked at a group of two girls close to her own age standing close to a flower shop, talking loudly about the latest fashions, or who they were seeing, or what they would be doing tonight.

Both of them were wearing skirts just as short as Chihiko's, one of them even shorter, and they didn't seem against showing more then a little bit of skin or wearing glamorous makeup. Perhaps it was customary for the girls of this town to dress as such on an everyday basis, to already be thinking of romance and dating? She pondered this as she passed by the girls, thinking to herself just how anyone could move or fight in such ill-fitting apparel. They would probably be too concerned about chipping a nail to really commit themselves to any sort of battle.

Their actions seemed so inane and ridiculous to Chihiko; shouldn't they be training or on a mission? She glanced back just to check, and affirmed that each of them was wearing a Konoha forehead protector, albeit in different, more "fashionable" ways. One of them even had hers like a headband, using it to keep her shocking pink hair out of her eyes. In the her home village, those qualified to receive a shinobi forehead protector always wore it either across their brow or wrapped around their upper arm, as Chihiko did. This guaranteed that their village's crest would be visible. Only a person who was punching the pink-haired girl on the top of her head would see that she was a citizen of Konoha.

To Chihiko, it seemed like the two girls too much time on their hands, gallivanting about loudly. She felt as thought they should be ashamed of themselves, acting so...so feminine.

_Maybe they have too many shinobi; they don't know what to do with them all_, Chihiko wondered, as she now noticed that at least one out of every three villagers wore a forehead protector, and of that, several of them were also wearing Chuunin vests. Chihiko was beginning to understand Onoda-sama's urgency to promote her to the esteemed Jounin level.

None of these interesting revelations changed the fact that Chihiko was no where near finding Zaku's murderer. Every face was new to her, every twist and turn of the village was just another piece of a never-ending maze. Should she ask someone for help, or spy for a few days instead? If the men at the front gate or the gabbing kunoichi were any indication of what the sample population was like, perhaps some questioning would lead her in the right direction.

"What am I going to say?" Chihiko sighed, realizing that asking for a boy infested with insects might seem a little suspicious. No, for now at least, staying in the shadows and watching silently seemed to be her best, and wisest, option.

"But first, I think some much-needed rest is in order."

Chihiko's face lit up at the thought of a cozy bed and a nice glass of cold water. The idea was rather cathartic. Immediately she started looking for a hotel or inn that had rooms available.

Walking the streets at a measured pace, the girl realized that finding a place to stay wasn't going to be hard at all. There were countless establishments to choose from, from small, picturesque chalets to beautiful and luxurious villas. However tempting it was to splurge on one of the pricier hotels, Chihiko knew well enough that her ryo had to last the entire duration of her mission, and who knew how long that was going to be.

She was used to sleeping in a quaint, yet comfortable bed, so it wasn't like she was going to be disappointed. It was just that the thought of staying in a fancy holiday home was a little exciting to the "country-bumpkin" of a kunoichi.

She stopped at a small inn that stood between a convenience store and a pharmacy. Tilting her head back, she was happy to see the words "Vacancy" glowing green from the neon-sign. A comforting vibe emanated from the abode, and Chihiko felt as though invisible strings were pulling her, inviting her inside.

Chihiko pushed the door in and a musical chime called out, announcing that a customer had entered the main lobby. Since it was empty at the moment, Chihiko took this time to look around the room, which was shaped like a square with sixteen feet on each side, a small hallway leading to the left. There was a table in one corner, a ceramic vase filled with azaleas sitting on it. A larger table was in the other corner; on it were two neat piles of paper, a couple of pens laying next to them.

She found herself satisfied by her decision; the floors were clean and well-scrubbed and several pretty paintings adorned the lightly-worn walls of the hotel. The glass windows were clean and nothing seemed out of place. Some might have called the hotel tacky, but to Chihiko, it was just the place she needed: nothing too fancy, nothing too expensive. It perfectly echoed her room in the Waterfall village with its quality-over-quantity appeal.

Just as she was about to investigate further into the hotel, the pitter-patter of feet upon linoleum tiles came from the dark hallway, slow and steady like an old tortoise. Chihiko waited patiently behind the table with the papers as the owner of the sagging steps finally revealed himself to be young man, much to Chihiko's well-hidden surprise. His movements were made possible through the use of crutches, and it was obvious that walking was a painful ordeal. He was missing his right leg, the stump of it hidden by his pant leg. Not wanting to seem rude, Chihiko smiled genuinely at the attendant as he made his way towards her. He smiled in return, but it was so strained and tired that anyone watching would have said it was a grimace of sadness.

He was dressed in the garb of an average commoner and held himself like one, which made Chihiko feel at ease, for in the streets, the flashy clothing and behavior of most of Konoha's people unnerved her. The young man seemed down-to-earth, with his plain blue kimono jacket and gray pants. If one looked closely, they would notice that hidden in the fabric of his jacket was an elaborate design of vines and flowers, a small detail that pleased Chihiko, although she couldn't figure out why.

"Good morning, good morning," he said, finally reaching the table, panting slightly. He gently plucked the top paper from the stack, "Please excuse the wait, I hope it wasn't too long…I didn't hear the bell at first…need to get that thing fixed one of these days…much too soft."

"Are you the only one here? It must be hard to run a hotel all by yourself," Chihiko said, admiring his earnestness, the way in which he placed a pen in front of her, his thin fingers delicate and caring.

"Well, I make do with what I have, if you know what I mean," he replied truthfully, motioning towards his amputated limb, clucking his tongue, "But yes, it's just me here, Ishiraku of the Gentle-Springs. That's the name of this establishment, although the bathing spring won't be open for a little, not until the weather brightens up. Water's near freezing right now."

He paused, still winded from his trek to the front lobby, leaning up against his one crutch. Chihiko was about to say that cold water wasn't a bother when he spoke up again.

"Now then, I assume you're looking for a place to stay. Guess you must have traveled through the night…I don't get many visitors in the morning. All I need is a little bit of information and we'll get you a room," Ishiraku asked, smiling. Suddenly his smile changed into a deep frown as he seemed to remember something. Pressing a finger to his forehead, the man looked at Chihiko apologetically.

"I forgot I don't have any rooms ready at the moment. You came at an odd time you see and I still need to clean the most recently vacated room. Hard to get all these things tidied up when you're all by your lonesome, you see…I'm really sorry for this inconvenience, ma'am."

"There's no need for the regret," Chihiko said, a little letdown by this revelation. She had been looking forwards to resting up, but she supposed a little wait wouldn't kill her.

"Just give me a half-hour and I'll have a room all straightened up. I'll even throw in a free breakfast for all the trouble. I might not look like much of a cook, but I make a mean tamagoyaki!" he replied, hoping that his offer would appease the girl, "You look tired…come back later and one of our comfy beds will rejuvenate you in no time!"

Chihiko nodded, a little weary, but the man's kindness was infectious and slightly invigorating. As he walked away, his crutches moving quickly, Chihiko could already taste the delicious egg omelet on her tongue. With such good spirits, his cooking was sure to be fantastic. When he had disappeared back into the hallway, Chihiko walked out of the lobby, the bell chiming behind her happily.

------------------------------------------

Back in the streets, Chihiko instantly missed the quiet of the Gentle-Springs and the subtle pleasantries of its owner. He reminded her of Hitaishii, and it was then that she realized why Ishiraku's jacket seemed so familiar; it was very similar to the one her teacher wore outside the dojo. Perhaps they had gotten it from the same tailor? Chihiko knew this was a foolish thought. There were probably millions of clothing stores in Konoha and the likelihood that Ishiraku had stumbled into the Waterfall village to purchase his jacket was very slim.

Still, the thought of the hotel owner and Hitaishii being connected in some slight and understated way comforted Chihiko, for there was little in Konoha that reminded her of home.

As the day approached late morning, the activity in the streets only multiplied. Once or twice, Chihiko swore that she had spotted a couple high-level shinobi dotting the corridors, putting her on high-alert. Unlike the talkative kunoichi from before, these fighters seemed much more professional, sporting Chuunin vests and the appropriate black or blue garments that she was accustomed to seeing a shinobi wear.

Spotting another shinobi from the corner of her eye, this one without a vest, Chihiko plunged herself into the thick of the morning crowd. She resented being in such a highly populated area, but the situation called for it. She doubted the guards at the front gate had suspected or reported her, but there had to be at least a few pairs of skeptical eyes in Konoha. If one looked hard enough, they would clearly see that Chihiko was no messenger from the Waterfall village. For one thing, she didn't have any documents on her person to deliver and her actions thus far hadn't been in accordance with her alibi. And of course, if they ran a background check on her passport, her entire cover-up would explode in her face.

Carefully, furtively, she looked ahead into a wind-chime that had several mirrors dangling from it. With the reflective surfaces twisting in several directions, Chihiko was able to glance behind her without directly doing so. Thankfully no one was following her, at least not yet.

At some point, there was going to be a fight, Chihiko just had to be ready for it when it happened.

Chihiko wasn't a naïve youth, she knew nothing stood dormant and peaceful forever, plans were always in motion, even when you couldn't see it for yourself. She had been cautious and wary this entire time, but some things you just couldn't control.

Her entire body was anticipating something, anything, and it was only exhausting her further. At this point, she needed to collect herself, gain her bearings within the confines of privacy. Breathing softly, Chihiko wandered the streets, wondering when her room would be prepared.

Passing by the noisy crowd, avoiding the blurs of human bodies that culminated around her, Chihiko spotted an empty bench on the side of the street. A dull ache resounded in her legs again, reminding her of the colossal strain she was fighting.

"It will only be for a moment…" she spoke aloud, too fatigued to keep her thoughts silent. Chihiko plopped onto the wooden seat and instantly an air of intoxicating relief swept through her worn limbs. How good it felt to finally sit and rest! Hands folded in her lap, Chihiko let her breaths flow freely and slowly, basking in the radiance that immobility provided.

From above, much too high for anyone to immediately spot, a figure crouched on the roof of a huge hospital's northern most wing, covered in a white cloak, his face obscured behind a mask formed into the visage of a cat. Behind him, three others stood. They were all clothed in the same garb, the only difference being the shape of their masks. The first person, presumably the leader of the small squadron, tapped the miniature transmitter that was attached to a collar on his neck, the microphone secured onto the portion of his mask nearest the mouth, secured by a strip of clear tape.

"The target has stopped moving, what are your orders?" he says in a raspy and muffled voice. It is emotionless and uncaring, the voice of an assassin preparing to take down his mark.

A collective murmur was heard from the other end of the radio, and then silence. Finally, a haughty, empowered voice speaks up, seeping with authority.

"Engage."


	10. Pressure

Chapter nine : Pressure

The birds had been her first clue.

Sitting on the bench calmly, her strength slowly returning to her weakened self, Chihiko had found amusement in the antics of a few robins. The person who had occupied the bench before her had scattered small handfuls of crumbs along the ground and in a rabid dash of hunger the small birds scrambled to eat as much as their little bellies could hold. Food was becoming scarcer as the days grew colder and no living creature passed up the opportunity for a free meal. They squabbled with each other like old women fighting over a bargain item at some store, playfully pecking at each other with their diminutive beaks, never trying to hurt, but simply to scare the other bird away from some delicious piece of bread crust.

When only a few of the morsels were left, two of the birds flitted away, hoping to find more plentiful amounts of food elsewhere. But the smallest of the birds, who had been overpowered by its companions, stood its ground, picking up what its friends had left behind. It was pulling and tugging at a particularly large crumb that had become lodged in a small crack in the sidewalk. Chihiko, noticing the robin's plight, plucked the crumb free and broke it into several smaller pieces. Spreading them thin across her open palm, she invited the robin towards her, hoping that it would hop into her hand. She had done this before, when she was younger, and Chihiko wondered with a spirited and uncharacteristic curiosity if she still had the knack.

The bird skittered across the ground, both of its scaled feet moving together, hoping to and fro, its small feathered head moving a fraction sideways, wary of its surroundings. As it came closer, Chihiko widened her fingers, making her hand seem as big and safe as possible. If she clenched her hands but a little, it would look like a cage and that would frighten the little bird away.

The bird kicked off of the ground and onto the fleshy underside of Chihiko's hand, tiny claws scratching the exposed supple skin. It was only mildly discomforting; Chihiko was simply too pleased to pay the annoyance any mind. Quickly, the little robin began to collect the crumbs, moving about Chihiko's hand like a little robot.

And then, quite suddenly, it flew away, leaving half of the crumbs behind.

Chihiko frowned, trying to discern what she had done wrong.

"Well, see you later, little one," she whispered to herself, casting her eyes off into the sky that the bird had retreated into.

No longer focused on the birds, she dumped the crumbs back onto the ground, staring at them lazily as she wiped her hands together. There was so much left that a small section of the pavement darkened, little shadows cast of the multitudes of crumbs collecting together to form a larger one.

The shadows increased.

Chihiko suddenly realized, almost too late, that crumbs that small could never cast a shadow, no matter how many there were, and she leapt off the bench and onto the ground just in time to see the entire fixture cave in from an overhead impact. It jolted the entire ground, spider-veins sprawling through the dirt and pavement and grass. Panic severed the mid-morning crowd, several cries ringing out, drowning out any other noise. Bodies from every direction scattered into each other as the dust began to settle, Chihiko still recovering from the shock of the sneak-attack. All around her, people were screaming and running and pushing, causing a massive cloud of confusion to be kicked up. Soon the entire area was empty save the ruins of the bench and Chihiko. Nothing stirred except for the air, which was saturated with dust and anticipation, both as prominent as the other.

Looking at the broken pieces of the bench, Chihiko knew she had been immensely lucky to have seen the shadow of her attacker before he had crushed her sitting spot. Normally in the case of a surprise assault, she was able to sense the motives of those around her, the collective consciousness' speaking to her, giving her the upper hand. This time, she had sensed nothing, not even a trickle of danger.

Gazing at the splintered wood and bent metal, Chihiko looked for her opponent, but he had disappeared. But where? There was hardly anything left of the bench, no place for him to hide in. Looking above her, she found the skies empty as well. This enemy obviously was skilled at shrouding his presence.

"You're fast, I'll give you that," a deep voice rose from the haze and debris of the crushed bench. It was full of malice and bitingly cold, the voice of a killer. He was using a sort of Genjutsu to hide himself, and although it was impressively effective, Chihiko wasn't frightened, not even by a little. She was still alive, her foe had not been successful, and that meant that she could win.

"But speed won't save you, nor will dumb luck."

An indiscernible shape emerged from the rubble, blindingly fast, and as the assailant moved, his Genjutsu faded like a veil being tossed aside. Chihiko quickly fell into her defensive stance, feet apart, hands slightly raised as she waited for the fighter to move into her proximity.

She had him.

As the fighter lunged forward, now completely unveiled to be a fighter wearing a cloak, Chihiko remained still; the only moving thing on her body was the gentle rise and fall of her chest and the subtle shifting of her hair as the wind rustled through it. As long as she remembered that her enemy was human, that blood coursed through his body, there was nothing he could do that she couldn't defend against. By initiating the attack, the man was acting on a lower level.

Racing towards her, now so close that she could see the mask that the man wore, the man brought his fist forwards, preparing to deliver a circular blow to her face. She braced herself quietly, counting the seconds that it would take the man to reach her.

His illusion was impressive indeed.

The man approaching her stalled for the smallest of moments, an almost undetectable flaw in his movements, but Chihiko caught it nonetheless. Her eyes scrutinized the cloaked figure's ruse just as she felt a tugging sensation at her neck, the crook of his right elbow attempting to choke her while a gloved hand fiercely grabbed her left wrist.

The real attacker was behind her, the one before her was merely a clone. Before the man could strengthen the hold around her neck, Chihiko quickly dropped her chin towards her chest, protecting herself from further strangulation. From here, it was only a matter of deciding if she wanted to neutralize the arm trying to throttle her or the hand holding her wrist.

Instinct kicking in, her years of grueling training commanding her every movement, every muscle, Chihiko extended her left arm, pulling the man's arm as well, distracting the masked assassin as she clasped the arm choking her with her right hand. Her movements fluid like the purest of rivers, Chihiko stepped laterally to her right foot, her left foot planting behind her so that she could slip underneath his right arm safely, his left hand finally releasing her wrist. Gripping the man's right hand with both of her own, Chihiko twisted it painfully inwards towards his body.

Chihiko heard a rasping gasp of shock from beneath the menacing mask of her attacker, just before she spun him clockwise around herself, sending him onto the ground, mask hitting onto the pavement with a sickening crack. And yet, Chihiko knew she had only caused minimal damage, just enough to redirect his attack and counterbalance his actions.

The second attack launched just as Chihiko's incapacitated enemy disappeared into a vaporous cloud of mist, a log appearing within in it.

"Kawamiri no jutsu!?" Chihiko exclaimed as a katana slashed through the haze of the replacement technique, sharp edge glinting, eager to carve itself into the exposed flesh of her collar bone.

Face composed, not even the slightest bit of sweat erupting from the pores in her skin, Chihiko allowed the second fighter, clothed in same gear as the first, to thrust forward, blade first. Just as the sword was about to pierce her, Chihiko nimbly pivoted on her left foot in a clockwise direction, bringing her right foot behind her so that she twisted out of the blade's path completely. Catching the attacker off-guard, the white-haired kunoichi clutched the weapon's hilt in her left hand as it passed by her side. Now in control of both attacker and his blade, Chihiko lifted the handle upwards forcefully and over her own head, the owner of the sword close behind it. Immediately afterwards she pulled downwards as she stepped forwards. Both man and blade were pulled forward, and the intensity of the tug caused the shinobi to loosen his grip. His fingers, now sweaty, slipped free, and without a guard to stop his hands from being cut upon his own blade, the shinobi had no other choice but to completely release the handle, causing him tumble up and over Chihiko's head.

As the enigmatic enemy was sent sprawling onto the ground, his blade still with Chihiko, he too exploded into an obscure cloud, leaving behind another dormant log. Now, there were two fighters hidden somewhere close by.

Looking at the weapon in her hands, Chihiko thought about the disgusting, violent intentions of the fighter who had wielded it, how he functioned off of fate and cruelty. She tossed it aside into a bush so that it would be well hidden.

There was no doubt that the enemy was capable and trained to kill; their attacks would have fallen a lesser warrior. It was obvious that half of her victory was due to their disbelief and shock; they hadn't expected Chihiko to be as resourceful or quick on her feet. She smirked a little; even the tiniest mouse can chew the fingers off of a much larger cat if its strength is underestimated.

Chihiko readied herself for the next intense volley. It was going to be tougher this time around, she was sure of that; they wouldn't be as foolish.

Immense puffs of fog burst all around her as the enemy began to hurl harmless smoke grenades at Chihiko's feet. The vapors rose into her face, blinding her momentarily, and she knew the enemy was waiting for her rub her eyes in confusion or try to bat away at the mist, for that would be their ideal moment to strike. They were still using basic attack patterns against her, techniques that just wouldn't suffice. Perhaps they were simply toying with her, trying to wear her down little by little, like a piece of wood slowly being chipped at. Chihiko had lasted through a five hour battle before, and won; the enemy would have to strike soon if they wanted to end this quickly.

Eyes keen and alert, Chihiko's limbs and back remained relaxed at ease. She needed to be as flexible as possible if she was going to have to battle in this annoying miasma. Chihiko waited, the mist swirling around her, reacting to the vibrations of the brewing battle.

"_Katon: Karyuu Endan (Dragon's Flame)!_"

An abrasive cry filled the air as a red and orange glow began to disperse the smoke. Chihiko's heart suddenly filled with fear, one she was not accustomed to, knees buckling slightly. Her cool exterior began to fade as the scarlet glow began to manifest itself into a gigantic wall of fire. With lightning fast ferocity it screamed towards the horror-stricken girl, the intense heat blazing and irate, the tongues of fire licking dangerously close, insufferably scorching and terrible and vile.

Her mind shut down, utterly consumed with the thickening terror that the fire-type attack wrought. A billion thoughts seemed to clutter her brain, none of them useful, all of them frivolous, preventing her from retaliating or at least dodging the blast. Chihiko's closed her eyes, unable to move, unable to act, mired by this intangible fear. It was as if her will to fight had completely vanished.

The barrage of flames was about to collide with Chihiko, engulf her in its terrible wrath, when suddenly it was muffled, smote out like the whispers of a dying man. The sensation of heat slowly weakened until only a slight warmth could be felt in front of Chihiko's tense, scrunched face.

She parted her eyelids cautiously, mind still reeling, wondering if perhaps the torrid flames had already consumed her, and that she was now in the afterlife.

A moment passed, and then another, and yet Chihiko still felt air flowing into her lungs.

The world burst into view again, the waking world, not the land of the dead. She was still alive. But how? How had she survived?

All around her lay the answer. Thick, writhing, green tendrils, each of them taller then Chihiko herself, had burst from the ground below Chihiko, creating a sort of natural barrier against the blaze, absorbing the flames. Their outer surfaces were charred and severely damaged, fleshy skins burned away to reveal their inner pulp, but they continued to move like fat and thorny snakes, angrily writhing about, propelled by some unknown and unseen force. After a few moments, when the air was still once more, the roots seeped back into the ground, slithering away. When the tip of the last root had sunk into the burnt earth, Chihiko finally let the breath of air that she had been holding in her lungs out.

_How? I didn't even summon that… _puzzled, curious and more then a little winded, Chihiko panted, eying the surrounding area suspiciously.

Holes nearly a foot in diameter lay around her in a near perfect circle. Chihiko peered down one of the fissures, but there was nothing to see; the plants that had saved her life were gone.

_**ZIP!**_

Chihiko ducked in the nick of time as a kunai whizzed over her head, slicing off a few silver hairs from the top of her scalp, a nasty reminder that a fight was still underway. There was no time to deliberate over just how a sentient plant had erupted from the ground to protect her.

On all fours, Chihiko felt the dirt in between her fingers, regaining her sense of composure. It was obvious these people wanted her dead, and supernatural plants weren't going to stop them. They obviously thought Chihiko herself had summoned them herself.

_Can't rely on that now…have to keep going_, clenching her teeth together, Chihiko forgot about her unexplainable rescue, tucking it deep within her mind for later consideration. With the mist now completely dissolved, the playing field was level once more.

A patch of air in front of Chihiko quivered; she knew that it was from that trembling piece of nothing that the kunai had been flung. Somewhere, hidden once again by invisibility Genjutsu were at least two shinobi. Chihiko could feel their eyes boring into her from behind those elusive, clandestine masks.

A flurry of daggers, twenty strong, suddenly materialized, visible only when they were within feet of Chihiko's face, whistling in the air like a thousand diving eagles. Chihiko's hands worked quickly to form a rapid succession of symbols, her fingers a blur of flesh and bandages.

"_Doton: Doroku Gaeshi (Mud Wall)!_" voice barely audible underneath the torrent of kunai, Chihiko grabbed the dirt below her. She laced her chakra into the molecules of soil and rock, using it to hold together the earth, make it compact and firm. Lifting her "shield" into the air, the kunai were soon deflected off of the barrier with tiny clinking noises, falling helplessly to the ground like small gnats being swatted away.

However, her defense had not been absolute; a small trickle of blood began to dribble down the side of her face, the cut just large enough to open the skin.

The block of earth crumbled soon after, weakened by the onslaught. It was costing her too much chakra to hold the safeguard together anyway. As it fell apart, the chunks of earth falling towards the ground in progressively larger pieces, Chihiko noticed in disdain that the enemy had used this opportunity to plant themselves around her, like wolves surrounding a weak and helpless deer. The shower of kunai had been a diversion.

There were four total, all spaced evenly before her, and she instantly recognized the two from before, for their clothes were ragged and dust-covered. Of the remaining two fighters, one branded a tanto, a short sword resembling a dagger. The rest were unarmed.

All of them had removed their white-colored cloaks for ease of movements. Underneath, they wore sleeveless body suits of black, stretchy material that was tight on their upper bodies and looser on their legs. Over that was a white vest, probably packed with protective material to stop a kunai blade or sword from piercing through. And of course, enshrouding their faces were those daunting masks, each carved with the features of some seemingly random animal.

Her barrier totally dissolved, Chihiko finally picked herself off the ground, careful not to cut her fingers on one of the many kunai scattered across the ground. She gazed into those masks, searching for any signs of humanity, a flicker of empathy, but found none. They were emotionless tools, just like her, following some order to completion. They would not stop fighting until either they had completed their objection or they lay dead on the street.

She looked at them, and they stared right back.

They moved at once, although the fighter farthest on her left was the first to attack, fist raced for a right hook. Although the punch of blisteringly fast, a mere flicker in the air, Chihiko dropped to a single knee, the balled hand whisking over her. Instantly she grabbed the shinobi's wrist guard and redirecting his momentum, she hurled the enemy over her head, right into two of her other opponents. As they tumbled to the ground in a massive heap of arms and legs, another shinobi attempted to grab her from behind while she was just getting back up on both legs. He grabbed both of her shoulders, readying to pull her onto the ground, but Chihiko retaliated instantaneously without hesitation.

In one effortless, fluid motion, Chihiko extended both of her arms forward in the same direction as her opponent's hold, turning her body sharply to his left side with a smooth circular step. Pivoting on her left foot, planting her right deeply behind the masked fighter, Chihiko suddenly ducked underneath the man's grappling hands, her zig-zagging movements offsetting his balance. His arms free from her shoulders, Chihiko swept her hands beneath the crooks of the man's knees, sweeping him away in a whirl up and over her right hip.

By this time, the three shinobi who had toppled to the ground had recovered themselves, and all of them were aimed to strike simultaneously. Two of the fighters grabbed her hands, yanking her forwards, strong hands crushing the small bones of her wrists. Chihiko cried out spasmodically as they suddenly pulled from opposite ends, ruthlessly tugging and wrenching her arms, attempting to pull them out of their joints. Gnashing her teeth, the girl summoned a strength belying her frail appearance, jerking one of the fighters towards herself while pulling the hands of the other over her head. With the two combatants racing headlong for each other, Chihiko moved to one side quickly. With no interruption in the flow of energy, she gracefully lead the arms of one of the shinobi against those of the other, unbalancing them both expertly. With a simple downward swing, Chihiko pushed them both onto the ground, faces snapping against one another.

With a scowl of indifference, Chihiko noticed that fresh blood had sprung form the mouth-hole of one of the shinobi's masks.

"Stop this useless fighting! I don't want to hurt you!" eyes shimmering with frustration, Chihiko pleaded to the fighters, hoping that they would halt, cease their pitiless assault.

The shinobi remained soundless as they lifted themselves off of the now blood-spattered and broken earth, small craters and punctures spaced erratically about the battleground. They seemed haggard, breathing deeply and rapidly; the facial wound of Chihiko's one opponent was still bleeding, even heavier now.

All her life Chihiko had been trained for situations like these, where she was outnumbered and alone, faced with armed enemies who had no other motive but to capture or kill. She knew the harsh realities of life, she was very well aware of man's darker side.

And yet she wondered why they wouldn't succumb, wouldn't step aside and let civility take affect. She knew that as the individual being attacked, she had the right to defend herself, but just when would defense turn into offense? She couldn't keep counteracting with simple turnarounds and otherwise "ethical" forms of defense, not if she ever wanted this fighting to reach any sort of conclusion.

Just as she was about to call out again, beseech the shinobi to lay down their weapons and speak in peace, the one brandishing the tanto pounced, blade facing down, a killing stroke.

Mouth tight, her lips pursed with disappointment, Chihiko easily deflected the attack with her left forearm as she snatched his wrist with her right hand. Pulling his weapon-holding hand towards his head, Chihiko forced his elbow towards the air, his upper body slouching in discomfort. Anger and pity and exasperation all taking hold of her mind, Chihiko pushed harder yet, forcing the attacker onto one knee.

"Please! Stop!" she asked again, cheeks reddening, hating the sight of another person being put into pain, especially at her own hands. When the man still refused to yield, she twisted his body forward and kicked his feet out from underneath him. Shoulder twisting in a direction that had to be agonizing, he fell to the ground face first, knife becoming dislodged from his hand, falling only a couple feet away.

Chihiko had seen enough. There was no negotiating with the four masked shinobi, she couldn't ignore that now. The faint embers of conflict had been fanned into a massive inferno of destructive forces; there was to be no peaceful way out of the battle. But Chihiko couldn't be defeated, whether by capture or worse, not when her mission hung in the balance. If she succumbed now, let herself be taken, she would never find Zaku's killer, learn the answers behind his mysterious fate.

She had to be the one left standing.

The fighters gathered themselves once more just as Chihiko knelt down to pick up the abandoned tanto blade, hating how it felt within her hands. She wasn't formally trained in armed combat; the weapon in her hand felt heavy and cold and malevolent.

Her hands held the kunai tightly. Her eyes sealed, preparing for the inevitable pain.

Chihiko's lips were sealed as the blade cut into the flesh of her right hand, slitting open her palm. Not a trickle of pain showed itself on her tranquil and poised face as crimson rivulets pulsed forth from the throbbing wound. It's purpose now complete, the young kunoichi discarded knife, its steel edges washed with her own blood. As she started to form a methodical string of hand signals, the four shinobi raced forward, fully aware of what she was planning to do.

"_Kuchiyose no Jutsu: Jyukai Koudan (Deep Forest Emergence)!_" slamming her wounded hand onto the wrecked and trampled street, Chihiko poured an immense amount of chakra into the ground, sending it deep into the soil, her blood commingling with her own spiritual energies. An ancient force churned beneath the earth's surface, the buildings quaking as a cryptic pattern spewed forth from Chihiko's bloodied palm, spiraling around her like a cyclone of words and letters.

Feet staggering, the very dirt and road betraying them as they struggled to remain standing, the masked shinobi could do little as a colossal oak tree, its trunk as wide as five elephants, suddenly ripped up from the planet's core. Its limbs were looming, monstrous arms made out of heavy bark that swooped and lashed about menacingly. Several nearby buildings were instantly destroyed by the force of the tree's eruption, its foundation rocked by the surging roots.

Leaping up into the middle branches of her summoned ally, Chihiko looked down at the fighters as they began to travel up the tree's massive canopy, trying to reach her, there ascension hindered by the swarming thicket. But the plant had a mind of its own, and it was a strikingly intelligent one at that. With an agility that contradicted its massive structure, the tree unfurled and twisted its limbs, swiping at the shinobi as they scattered and divided themselves amongst the many branches. The entire tree was alive and animated, thrashing, flogging and beating at the shinobi with all of its power, its skin of bark groaning as the trunk rotated and turned. Every gnarled bough on the tree stretched itself to its maximum length, pummeling anything it could reach, protecting Chihiko, who was safe within the deep confines of the cognizant plant.

"I thought only the first Hokage could summon this tree!?" one of the fighters exclaimed, just before a pounding branch crushed into his abdomen, knocking him out of the maze of wood and leaves. His body crash through branches, smacking against the trunk of the tree several times before he finally reached the ground once more. He did not get back up.

Chihiko gazed down at the man with pity, wishing that it would not have come to this.

As the other three members of the small squad raced down to check the condition of their fallen comrade, the tree lurched once more, reacting to their quick escape. With knuckle-like twigs, its branches thick as engorged pythons, the tree dealt staggering blows and uppercuts, just as a living man would, except with the added toughness its woody exterior provided. Desperation sinking in like a foul virus, the trio of fighters attempted to retaliate, but their knives barely scratched the resilient and their punches left their fists numb and bruised. It was useless to go into fisticuffs with the unyielding tree. Soon the tree's branches ensnared the masked men, pulling them deeper and deeper into its immense canopy.

"Retreat!" the squad's leader finally gasped out, the life being squeezed out of him slowly, the constricting boughs wrapping around his body like a death vice. His pupils dilated, he and his other shinobi were barely able to maneuver their hands. With a last burst of strength, they simultaneously executed Kawamiri no Jutsu one last time, replacing their bodies with some of the strewn objects on the ground below.

At first the tree almost appeared to be confused, twitching its twigs and branches, foraging through its entangled copse for the three shinobi. It doubled over itself, searching the area near its massive, bulky roots for the fourth fighter, and found that he too had vanished. Stroking the side of its trunk, Chihiko silently consoled the overgrown tree, whispering words of peace to it, telling it that there was no more need for anger or ire. Slowly, the tree came to rest, its branches moving more naturally, swaying in the breeze. Thankfully, since it had been under Chihiko's control, none of the fighters would sustain permanent or long-lasting injury. She had taken great care to instruct the tree to merely put them out of action, frighten them away long enough for her to rebuild another alibi.

Things had taken a drastic turn, and the scope of her mission had bitterly changed. Every shinobi of any rank would be looking for a white-haired girl dressed in yellow, and she soon realized that word of her battle would eventually reach the ears of the Waterfall village.

Thankfully, only the owner of the inn, Ishiraku, would recall her face. With a simple casting of Henge no Jutsu, she could change her appearance, make herself into another nobody in this crowded town. She prayed that no one would need to see a passport, for there was no way to change the face on that.

"You have done well, my friend," she spoke softly, like a mother cooing a cheery infant, to the monstrous tree, now completely pacified. To Chihiko, the mammoth oak was more then just a summoned creature, it was a reliable friend, an ally. And then, in an oddly-placed moment of clarity, she began to grasp that they were very much alike, both tools, both being used for protection. She had commanded it, and it had obeyed her every whim. It was an extension of her being, just as she was an extension of the Waterfall Village.

A shudder shook the entire body of the tree. Every branch sprang back to life, thrashing about in search for the source of the sudden commotion. Chihiko was jolted amongst the moving boughs, caught by surprise as well; she had to grab a support with her hands to keep herself from falling.

With another loud bashing noise, the tree recoiled again, obviously in pain. But what could harm an eighty foot tree? The four highly trained assassins had scarcely put a dent in it. Had they called for reinforcements? Chihiko needed to act fast. An inharmonic discord moaned forth from the tree's bark as it tilted and heaved; a third shock wave had been shot into its wooden body. Gasping as if the tree's agony were her own, Chihiko leaned out from the tree, holding onto a thick branch to steady herself.

Gazing down the winding length of the oak, Chihiko, expecting to find a platoon of heavily armed shinobi, was astonished to see a single man, dressed in green. He was brutalizing the base of the tree with powerful kicks the likes she had never witnessed. With tremendous speed and power, the solitary fighter began to whittle away at the once undefeatable tree, large portions of its mass being chewed away by the sheer ferocity of his attacks. As each piece fell away from the bulk of the tree, Chihiko could hear the cries of her ally piercing into her ears, its rumbling bellow tunneling deep into both the earth and her heart. Half of its trunk was now minced to pieces. If any more of it was destroyed, the entire structure would collapse like a wilting wildflower.

Not able to stand any further torture of the great oak that had protected her so faithfully, Chihiko ran full tilt down the side of the tree. The soles of her boots infused with chakra, the kunoichi sped downwards, arms trailing behind her, wind whipping by so fast she thought it might cut her cheeks. When she could finally see her new opponent clearly, Chihiko pounced off the tree's trunk, flipping in midair with the pliant suppleness of a trapeze artist. Her body twisted elegantly as she seemed to soar through the air without wings, mimicking the cunning moves of a falling cat.

With a final arch of her back, Chihiko connected with the ground once more, causing the man to pull himself from his explosive assault. He turned around quickly, his thick black hair sweeping to one side as equally thick eyebrows furrowed in fury.

Chihiko was struck with bafflement twice as strong now, for the attacking man was not a man at all, but a boy who couldn't be much older then herself. His rounded eyes were alight with a passionate ardor, and it was being focused at her now instead of the tree.

Every molecule in his body seemed to be charged with a sort of battle verge; Chihiko prepared herself for what could very well be the fight of her life.

It was most definitely going to be one for her life.


	11. The Green Beast

Chapter ten : The Green Beast

The insides of her boots were still tingling, warm from the high-speed dash down the trunk of the splintered oak. Thankfully the layers of condensed chakra formed a protective layer around her feet; the material of her shoes was only a little worn. Without it, the rubber soles may very well have melted from the blistering friction.

Looking at the damaged base of the tree, Chihiko felt a prick of resentment stroke her nape, rustle through the wispy hairs on the back of her neck. The lone fighter had single-handedly crushed most of the tree's body, its trunk in shambles, sap oozing to the shattered ground like blood from a freshly killed animal. Some of the sticky, viscous discharge covered the hands of the terrifyingly strong shinobi, and Chihiko hoped with a biting scorn that it would harden between his fingers, making it difficult to flex his hands.

He didn't appear to take notice, didn't even seem to care that the tree behind him was still contorted in adamant pain. Now turned to face Chihiko, he stood tall and ready to fight, one hand held behind his back, the other in front of him, palm faced towards the sky, fingers extended. He wore white bandages in exactly the same way Chihiko did, swathing the area from the middle of his forearms to just past his knuckles. With a sharp and trained eye, Chihiko spotted several injuries on the exposed parts of his raised hand, scars and purple bruises. Some of them were probably the result of him using the summoned oak like a wooden training-post, the others had been there for quite some time. Wrapped around his shins were almost humorously colorful leg-warmers, which looked like they were made of some kind of plush orange material.

A vibrant-green leotard covered his entire body, and layered on top of that was a Chuunin vest, evidence that he was at least at Chihiko's rank, if not higher. She was interested to see how she would fare against a Konoha shinobi of equal level to herself, even one so ridiculously dressed.

At once, Chihiko took back her last thought as she remembered what she happened to be wearing. Her skirt was being pulled at the seams by this point, fabric struggling to maintain her modesty. With every step she took or jump she made, the hem of the garment inched up her legs, revealing more and more of her inner thighs. While fighting the four-man battalion, Chihiko had dutifully disregarded this, but now she was at rest and it was becoming rather annoying. She would have given the world to be back in her deeply-concealing hakama pants, especially now that her cover had been blown and her civilian clothes were no longer necessary.

"You're not my enemy!" Chihiko broke the icy silence tentatively. When the young man refused to acknowledge her treaty, she added, "I have not come here to make war with any of Konoha's people!"

It was a lie, and a bad one at that, for Chihiko wasn't the best at fabricating stories. Perhaps it was because she never had to be. She paused, trying to gauge his reaction, but there was nothing on his end, not even a spark of emotion other then those of contempt. His immense eyebrows were pulled together towards the middle of his face, forehead wrinkled as he took a subtle step forward, upper body unflinching. His intent to harm her was crippling.

"Then why use a mock-passport?" he finally spoke, his voice rather formal despite his bestial power. Chihiko muttered an expletive under her breath; the two watchmen at the village's gate must have done a background check on her passport. Bob-length hair sashaying in the September breeze, the green-clad shinobi eyed Chihiko meticulously. "Anyone who invades Konoha is my enemy. You are not here on some messenger-errand from the Waterfall village. If you want peace, then you can resign yourself here and surrender."

It was not exactly what Chihiko had been prepared to hear; she was surprised to find that they doubted her point of origin. With any luck, although hers as of late had been pretty sour, her whereabouts would be kept secret from the village chief for just a little bit longer.

"If that is how you'll have it…" Chihiko replied cynically, wishing that another conflict could have been avoided. If she didn't escape the battlefield soon enough, the entire village would be breathing down her neck. She had to deal with this fighter quickly before more reinforcements arrived.

Arching one of his thick eyebrows, the boy rushed towards her, feet moving so fast that they were barely scraping the ground. Dust and rocks and splintered pieces of wood were kicked up as he began to pick up speed, pulled from their spots as he raced by, drawn by his immense momentum, an insane cloud of debris that trailed behind him as he raced towards Chihiko.

The velocity of the masked shinobi had been notable, but it shriveled in comparison to the boy's. Chihiko could barely track his movements; he began to dart left and right, his body disappearing for an instant only to reappear somewhere else, a blur of green streaking across the gravel. Pupils struggling to track where he might be going, Chihiko braced herself for whatever maneuver the black-haired fighter might make once he was close enough.

"_Konoha Senpu (Leaf Hurricane)!_"

Just as Chihiko heard the boy's voice, a sandaled foot suddenly whipped up towards her right flank, moving so viciously fast that all she was able to make out was a wild and brief flash of orange. Chihiko could barely react in time, and just when it seemed the kick would connect, she leapt off of the ground, feet just as nimble as her attacker's. Once in the air, she grabbed what she assumed were the young man's shoulders. With his body still moving forwards, Chihiko swung her feet towards the air into a handstand, legs held tightly together like a gymnast performing a deft routine on the parallel bars. Her body was now perpendicular to the ground.

Fingers clenching his shoulders, nails digging into his skin, the kunoichi flung herself up and over his head, and as her legs descended towards his backside, she actually began to lift him off his feet. His mouth barely had time to make an "O" shape, a small gasp escaping his lips.

The instant she was standing again, Chihiko strained the muscles in her back and arms, using the force and drive of her flip to pull the boy over her. He was almost too heavy for the young girl to pull, and so she gnashed her teeth together, mustering every ounce of vigor she had left in her. With one last oomph, the body of the young shinobi sailed right over Chihiko, launched into the air with a mighty heave. Caught completely off guard by the reversal, he flew through the air like a rag-doll, eyes wide with disbelief.

His body smashed onto the fractured pavement like a sack of potatoes, and after that he skid along the ground for several feet before finally slowing to a halt. Instantly he flipped back onto his feet, not in the least bit discouraged. Instead he seemed to be even more eager to fight, now that he had seen the capabilities of his foreign opponent. With a thin smirk plastered on his face, now flushed and sweaty, he prepared to rush again.

_I can't let you get in the way!_ Chihiko's thoughts raced faster then the bushy-browed shinobi as she set her feet firmly on the earth, one in front of the other, her body and mind completely in synch with one another, absolutely alert.

She blinked, but in the second it took her eyelids to close and then part, the young boy had crossed the gap between them. Chihiko felt her heart plummet into her stomach.

The first punch she was able to dodge with a quick sidestep, and the second one just missed her left side before she twisted narrowly out of the way. It was taking all of her resourcefulness to evade his rapid-fire blows, her feet pivoting quickly to either side as his fists cut into the air with super-sonic speed. It was all like some flagrant, vivid tango being shared by two ardently passionate dancers, each body reacting to the other's movements. As the young man continuously lunged himself towards her, Chihiko would counteract with a lissom reversal. They were so close to one another that their arms and legs soon seemed intertwined; it was hard to tell when one fighter ended and the other began.

Chihiko noticed how stiff his attacks were, so text-book perfect, every limb and leg where it should be at any moment. But perfection was readable just as it was predictable, whereas Chihiko's movements were fluid, always in motion, her limbs sinuous and lithe like a bending river conforming to any shape or barrier in its way.

Suddenly, Chihiko spotted an opening as the zealous shinobi prepared to deliver a skull-shattering punch. Dotted along the ground were the circular fissures that the life-saving vines from before had left behind, and his feet were coming treacherously close to one of them. It was small enough to go unnoticed, as the battle had caused bits of grass to partially cover it, but Chihiko knew it to be just large enough to catch his sandal. She stood her ground as the clenched hand closed in on her, fingers mere inches from her nose; she could see the dirt underneath his nails.

Just as his fist was about to connect with her face, Chihiko hopped towards the rear, just enough so that he was able to react and reach forwards a little more. But while she had knowingly stepped over the nearly undetectable hole, the charging shinobi soon found himself tripping forwards, and before he had any hope to catch himself and recover, Chihiko grabbed his outstretched arm with both of her hands. Spinning his body in a swift, circular motion, she pitched him off in some random direction. Once again he hit the gravel and dirt, although this time he was still rotating slightly, and the impact caused a swirl of dust to envelope his entire body.

By this time, the boy was becoming frustrated. He couldn't land a single blow on the girl, no matter how fast or how powerful his punches were. It was like the girl could see seconds into the future, just enough to know what he was going to do, where he was going to move, what he part of her body he planned to punch or kick. What was even more irritating was that she wasn't injuring him, only redirecting his attacks away from herself or avoiding them entirely. Just what would it take to beat this white-haired kunoichi?

"You're a beast."

He looked up from his now familiar spot on the ground, spitting earth out of his mouth, eyes itchy from the specks of dust. Black hair ragged and in disarray, several cuts now on his face, the boy looked at Chihiko, still standing, always standing.

"You're a beast who doesn't think twice before acting, but only about how he will damage those around him," Chihiko spoke in a soft, yet unassailable voice. "It's so easy to tell what an attacking person is going to do…your violent ways make you so decipherable."

The boy's ears were glowing now as Chihiko taunted him gently, and he felt his body quiver with exasperation. But then he realized with a twinge of self-reproach that this was exactly what she was talking about. He quelled his mounting rage, enough to see clearly once more. He was not going to let some cool-headed kunoichi get the best of him.

Carefully, he began to unravel the bandages around his hands, allowing the loose wrappings to pool about him seated body.

He kicked off from the ground hard, the flowing bandages thrashing in the air like the ribbons of a kite. Chihiko had to admit, his was a stubborn and resilient shinobi. Her defensive tactics, while not physically punishing, were tiresome to the attacker. She was surprised that he could still move so quickly.

Chihiko could see the blazing whites of his rounded eyes as advanced towards her, heat and sweat sliding off of his face and into the air. Although he looked battered and worn, his anger had lost none of its potency. It sent a chill down her back to think about just how much one of his punches would hurt if it happened to connect. If he was strong enough to decimate her summoned oak, it would smash her soft flesh into a bloody pulp in mere seconds, tearing her apart like wet tissue paper.

He raised another fist, the entirety of his hand now exposed, but just as Chihiko expected him to lunge straight into her, the boy let himself drop onto the ground, sliding foot first along the earth.

The kick came from beneath her, so swift she barely felt the force of his sandaled foot as it cracked into her chest and then her chin, craning her head backwards. Soon her mind was swimming in pain, just as her body rose into the air, launched by the sheer intensity of the surprise attack.

Higher and higher she went, and Chihiko felt so lifeless that at first she thought she might be dreaming. Leaves of brown, amber and gold swirled around her like pieces of colored confetti, clouds appearing closer then ever before.

Strong arms clasped themselves around Chihiko's prone body and white bandages, moving as if on their own, encircled her as well. Her limbs were bound tightly, and she was unable to move or twist, trapped like an animal bound by a hungry boa constrictor.

The skin of her face became pale with suffocation as he gripped her tighter yet, her chest barely moving as she strained to breath, her chin still throbbing with pain. As their bodies began to fall, gravity embracing them at a last, Chihiko felt the world around her begin to spin, slow at first, and then more rapidly, the wind in her ears howling as the two of them fell at a frightening speed.

She finally found her voice at last, and screamed to the person clutching her.

"You'll be hurt too! Let me go! Let me go!" she tried to say, but the very words were snatched right out of her mouth by the racing airstream as they approached ground zero.

And then suddenly, quite out of the blue, she felt herself being thrown into an entirely different direction. Her body snagged away from that of the boy's, as a green tendril laced itself around her one ankle, three others working to rip through the cocoon of bandages. They had been so absorbed in their hand-to-hand battle that Chihiko had forgotten to release the enormous tree, send it back into the depths from which it had been called up from.

As Chihiko was forcefully peeled out of the shinobi's arms, the stem that had yanked her away held her securely. She watched as the other stalks hurled the young shinobi into the distance, treating him with much less consideration than she had been given. Moving quickly, Chihiko commanded the tree to lower her back onto the ground, already preparing herself to perform Henge no Jutsu; time was ticking, and she desperately needed to find a safer place to rest for the night.

She was just about to transform when a hard thump walloped her in the back of her neck, right near the base of her spine. At first she thought it was nothing, just a gust of wind pushing her from behind.

But then an inky darkness, like the profound obscurity of a cave, started to swallow her up, stars and spots of all colors dancing in front of her eyes as if they were the airborn seeds of a dandelion. An odd fuzziness began to consume her consciousness as Chihiko slumped onto the ground, her face landing right next to a pair of high-heeled sandals.

((A/N: Thankfully this will be the last fight-scene chapter for a while…I've never written so much action before. Please send a review if you can spare a moment and thanks for reading!))


	12. Confessions

Chapter eleven : Confessions

Her brain was pounding, like some persistent deep hammer thud echoing throughout her aching skull. Chihiko tried to think clearly, but that only caused the pain in her head to intensify, so excruciating that tears formed in the corners of her closed eyes.

There was no telling what time it could be; she had been out for what must have been a few hours. But like a person who's slept for too long, and upon waking they feel like they've only rested for seconds instead, Chihiko was still immensely listless. She tested her fingers, moving one at a time just to see how quickly they would respond. Chihiko knew she was in trouble when all of a sudden her one boot started to twitch.

"Don't worry; the effect will wear off soon enough.

The voice was smooth and imposing, and not in the least bit sympathetic to Chihiko's near-paralysis. Once again she tried to flex her arms, but the limb opposite of it on her body, in this case her thighs, moved instead, and Chihiko supposed that she must have looked like a marionette that's had its strings twisted and miss-matched. She abandoned trying to sit up and instead focused on unclosing her tightly shut eyelids. They were latched rather forcefully, and all she could see from behind her lids was a faint pink glow.

With a surge of determination, she finally succeeded in opening her eyes. She was met with a blast of electric light as thick tears of pain and tiredness tumbled freely down the sides of her face, strangely cold against the warmth of her flushed cheeks.

Chihiko felt a soft carpet underneath her and realized the she was lying belly-up in some sort of office. Turning her head sideways in both directions, she ogled at the elaborately-decorated chamber, which would have seemed gaudy, had it not been located in Konoha. Every wall had either a scroll or watercolor painting draped on it, and even with her hazy vision Chihiko thought she could see shimmering gold inlaid in the room's wallpaper, signs of decadence surrounding her like a whirlwind of riches. Near a row of windows at the back of the office was a fine-looking desk made of a rosy-colored wood which had been carefully carved and polished to a magnificent sheen. Gazing through the windows carefully, Chihiko distinguished an orange sun slinking towards the horizon. It was probably late afternoon.

Before she could admire the room any longer, Chihiko sensed an ominous presence hover over her like a shadow. A set of fingers suddenly clenched the front of her shirt, ripping her off the ground in a show of deadly strength. Dangling like some child's plaything, Chihiko looked at the hand as it slowly inched its way around her neck, and then her gaze trailed down the sleeved arm attached to it. From there, she soon found herself staring into a beautiful pair of brown eyes, female eyes, heavily lashed and intense, a blaze burning within them.

The woman had flaxen blond hair that was tied back into two pony-tails, one of them whisked over her shoulders. She was wearing an unrestricting, open-front jacket of pale green fabric, under which was a very low-cut shirt, her heaving bosom threatening to spill out of it. On her forehead, nestled directly in the middle of her pale brow, was a diamond-shaped marking that was either a deep blue or purple bead or paint. With her head wrenched upwards, Chihiko could see little more of the woman's body, as she was being forced to look the woman straight in the eyes.

The woman seizing Chihiko lifted her higher yet, and although her iron grip was fast and sure, not a single muscle in her arm was trembling from exertion. With an effortless swing, Chihiko was soon jammed against one of the walls. A picture frame was jabbing into her back uncomfortably, but it was nothing compared to stifling rage that the woman was emanating. Face blanched with fear, Chihiko thrashed about, arms moving when she thought her legs would, but she didn't care, she just wanted to free herself in any way possible. Her struggle only caused the woman to tighten her grip, long nails digging into the soft flesh of her neck, slowly crushing her windpipe. Choking for air, Chihiko could feel the skin on her face turn gray with suffocation.

"I-I can't be-breath…" Chihiko thought she could see the color fading from the room. She tried to move her hands up towards her face, so that she could try and pry herself loose, but her body was still disobeying the commands of her mind.

"That's the point," the woman snarled, red lips curling to reveal pearly white teeth, "Why should I let you go anyway? You have invaded Konoha through the use of an artificial form of identification, proving that your reasons for being here are unjust. Not only that, but you have destroyed three buildings, one of which was our largest hospital facility! Give me _one_ reason why I should let you go!"

Chihiko gulped, the bubble of air becoming trapped as it tried to slip under the woman's unfaltering hold. Her lungs ached, begging for oxygen.

"I…I ca-came here…" gasping and coughing, Chihiko tried to speak, voice grating in her throat, "…to find my…my friend's murderer!"

Another tear, leftover from before, slowly quivered out of her eye and fell onto one of the woman's fingers. She did not flinch.

"There are no murderers in our village…not anymore at least…" she spoke, sounding almost insulted by Chihiko's excuse. Scowling, she spoke in a low tone that forced sweat to break out on the younger girl's face.

"I don't want to hear any more lies from you…We received an urgent message from the Waterfall village late last night that their most powerful kunoichi had been kidnapped. She could be identified by her white-hair and by two moles underneath her right eye."

Chihiko could feel the woman's eyes searching her, studying her, exposing the girl for who she really was.

"It seems to me that she wasn't kidnapped at all…she appears to have come here by her own volition."

Breathless and wordless, Chihiko nearly blacked out when the woman shook her rigidly, pinioning her against the wall even harder now.

"Speak to me! Don't you know who I am!?" she bellowed, her other hand firmly planted on her hip as she brought her face close to Chihiko's, their noses nearly touching. She was just about to say "no" when all of a sudden she realized that she _had_ seen her before. The woman's face had been carved into the side of the one mountain surrounding Konoha; hers had been the final one on the right-hand side.

All at once Chihiko felt both incredibly weak and stupid. Whatever energy she had left drained out of her body through her toes and fingertips as she finally abandoned the fight to break free.

She was being spoken to by none other than Konoha's most prominent figure, the fifth-Hokage herself. Word of her legendary strength was legendary, even to one as far-removed from society as Chihiko. She might have been able to fight a four-man assassination squad and a Taijutsu master, but no amount of Aikido prowess could ever save her.

This was the end of the road. There wasn't a lie Chihiko could say that would help matters now.

"He…He t-told me to come here…told me that Zaku's murderer was here…during the ch-Chuunin exams…" spit dribbled from her mouth, and although it seemed frivolous, Chihiko wished she could wipe it away. To spit on the Hokage, even by accident, seemed like some crime punishable by death. All her life, she had heard terrible stories about the Hokage of Konoha, how each of them had been powerful enough to move mountains and crush entire armies. Now she was being help captive by one of them; Chihiko couldn't imagine a worse scenario.

"Who told you?" the Hokage demanded, and although she still sounded harsh, a hint of curiosity had wiggled its way into her words. The woman tapped a single foot impatiently, waiting for Chihiko to answer. It took the girl a second to find her voice again.

"The…the snake man…" was all she could say. Although it had sounded like childish prattling to Chihiko, the woman's eyes widened slightly, as if everything at once, like the pieces of some puzzle finally coming together, made sense. Her grip suddenly slackened, fingers relaxing, and Chihiko plunged onto the carpeted office floor with a loud thump.

Chihiko reached around to rub her sore and numb rear and it soon dawned on her that she had regained full-control of her limbs once more. When she looked up, she saw that the Hokage was in some sort of trance, digesting Chihiko's confession.

"Ho-Hokage-sama?" Chihiko said, making absolutely sure to speak formally when addressing Konoha's leader. This seemed to pull the blond woman from her reverie.

"You…tell me everything," looking down at Chihiko, her gaze now softening, the Hokage tapped chin, obviously rapt in what the girl had to say. Before speaking, Chihiko slowly clambered back onto her feet, knees buckling halfway up. She was still a little weak from the previous two battles.

"Yes, Hokage-sama…" nodding politely, Chihiko began to explain herself, how she had been contacted by Orochinaho, how she had learned of her friend's death, and how she had been informed that his killer could be located here in Konoha. As she spoke, the anger seemed to filter out of the Hokage's face, the fire leaving her eyes. When she concluded her story, the woman gave a deep, heavy and frustrated sigh.

"Orochimaru, you bastard…you're still trying to make my life hard, eh?" she spoke as if to herself, a wry smile turning up the thin corners of her otherwise plump lips. She stiffly hugged herself, the outward curves of her voluptuous chest resting on her crossed arms.

"Kawano Chihiko, is that your name?"

Chihiko was startled at first when she heard her name being spoken, but she collected herself quickly, nodding again. Her back was rigid now, arms straight at her sides, the very image of obedience. The only part of her that wasn't stern was her eyes; they veered onto the floor sheepishly.

"I never meant to cause this much harm…this much damage…please forgive me…" Chihiko spoke in a soft, breathy voice, averting her gaze from that of the Hokage, afraid to make eye contact with those piercing brown eyes.

"There is little that needs to be forgiven, Chihiko-san," voice now completely removed of its previous fury, the Hokage unfolding her arms, placing her hands on the sides of Chihiko's arms. As she touched her, Chihiko could feel the nervousness leave her and be replaced by a more welcome sensation of safety. It was so foreign to her by this point that the girl couldn't help but shudder slightly. When was the last time she'd felt absolutely safe?

"The man you mentioned, the "Snake Man", is known well to everyone in Konoha, for he was once a member of it. He was an infamous traitor who has in just two years caused more devastation to this village than any other shinobi force," the Hokage started, a grimace etching the milky smooth skin of her face. Chihiko listened, absorbed in what the older woman had to say. Finally, after so much confusion and doubt, she might hear the truth at last.

"His real is Orochimaru, although I'm certain he gave you a pseudonym to remain anonymous. About two years ago, he infiltrated the Chuunin exam that was being held here, posing as a Jounin from the Sound Village. The boy you mentioned, your friend, along with two other Genin, was being used by Orochimaru like pawns in order to secure his alias.

"Along with his three Genin, Orochimaru was able to enlist the aid of the Sand Village, telling him that he would help them overthrow Konoha so that they would be the ruling shinobi nation instead.

"By the end of the Chuunin exam, the Sand discovered that Orochimaru had deceived them, that he had actually murdered their own Kazekage in order to temporarily take his place. It was only due to the self-sacrifice of our third Hokage that his plan was foiled. The Third killed himself in order to seal away Orochimaru's hands, so that our village could stand as it does now."

As she finished her account, the Hokage walked around the room, taking a seat at her desk, planting her elbows on top of it. She laced her thin fingers together, and then spoke from behind her hands, eyes zeroing in on Chihiko.

"And that brings us here, doesn't it?" she asked dryly, a little winded. She was used to everyone already knowing Orochimaru's history with Konoha.

"It's obvious that you were duped by Orochimaru and I can't blame you for falling into his ruse. After the Chuunin exam, he was able to coerce one of our most promising Genin to leave our village and strike a gash through his forehead protector. Orochimaru is a deceiver, a foul man who wishes this village to be burned to the ground by any means possible. Through you, he might have been partially successful."

A knife of guilt cut deep into Chihiko's gut, twitching and stabbing. However much the Hokage candy-coated her story, in the end, Chihiko had been still been tricked. She had been foolish and acted on impulse. If it had not been for the Hokage, she might have killed an innocent man.

_Zaku_...

"Zaku!" Chihiko blurted, remembering her entire reason for being here. Mouth tense, she continued, speaking in a serious voice, "My friend, you say that he was being tricked by Orochimaru. Since everything he told me was a lie…do you think…is there any way that…"

What she wanted to ask was "Is he still alive?" But the words just wouldn't cooperate, and an incoherent string of fumbling broken phrases spilled out of her mouth instead. Hands now folded in her lap, the Hokage made a soft noise under her breath, eyes nearly closed.

"I know that this will be hard for you to hear…but you deserve closure, after coming all this way," she began, the tears already welling in Chihiko's iridescent green eyes. After a pause of consideration, the seated woman spoke again, "Abumi Zaku, along with Tsuchi Kin, were both murdered by their leader, by Orochimaru himself. He is dead."

Its one thing to know something; you can doubt your own knowledge, lie to yourself, say it isn't true or that you must be in the wrong. When you hear it from the lips of another, however, then there's no mistaking it.

Chihiko was discovering this for the second time now in only a few weeks. First, her abandonment by her own parents, and now the truth about the death of her friend, her dear friend, her only friend. Salty, fat droplets teetered towards the inner corners of her eyes, and when her vision had become so fragmented and clouded that she had to blink, the tears toppled out and down. She made no attempt to wipe them away, felt no shame in crying. To her, honoring the death of Zaku was more important then upholding her composure in accordance with the shinobi code.

"Chihiko-san," the Hokage interrupted softly. She knew the girl would need time to grieve, to absorb this cruel reality. But there was more to discuss, and it couldn't wait, no matter how much the Hokage wanted to stall. She needed to bring the girl back into focus.

"I know what it means to lose someone you care for…I know what you're feeling…"

"Zaku died knowing that he had been working with an evil man. I can't change that," Chihiko suddenly interjected, much to her own disbelief. The words had formed in her heart by themselves.

"But he will always be my friend, and I will always remember him as that, not as an accomplice.

"In the meantime, I must repent for my actions…I have acted outside the ethics of Aikido, and it is a serious offense to both my discipline and my teacher."

"Well, aren't you mature!" a surprised expression on her face, the Hokage was taken aback by the young girl's quick turnaround, "If only a few of our younger shinobi were more like you…there's this one boy who just _can't_ seem to grow up…

"But anyway, you have to understand. It's easy to blame yourself for everything in situations such as this, but it isn't right, and it won't change the past. You were being used against your will…had you known better, do you really think you would have come here?"

Chihiko solemnly glanced at the Hokage, realizing that she was trying to cheer her up. It was a nice attempt, but she was just too unwilling to just forget all that she had done. Noticing her apprehension, the Hokage stood up from her desk, using the backs of her legs to push the seat out from under her.

"Tell me, are there many shinobi like yourself in the Waterfall village? You seem very humble for such an extraordinary fighter. We don't see many Aikido users these days, at least not after the Great Shinobi War," she spoke kindly, moving away from the desk, sneaking a meaningful glance at a map of all the major shinobi nations.

"No. There are few shinobi who are equipped to handle missions, and of that there are only three Jounin. Of that, two are prepared to retire," Chihiko stated bluntly, a little wary to reveal her village's shinobi ranks. With some hesitation, she added, "I will soon be joining them as the fourth Waterfall Jounin."

For a moment it seemed that the Hokage's dignified jaw might hit the ground.

"Four? Its no wonder your village was so adamant about finding you…" she exclaimed, a little incredulous, but she doubted Chihiko was the type of person to lie in order to glorify herself.

"Knowing that…it's not surprising that you were able to defeat four ANBU…"

It took a moment, but Chihiko soon grasped that the Hokage was referring to the masked assassins. They had taken quite the beating during that battle, and the girl's face suddenly tensed, betraying her worry.

"Don't worry," smiling, the Hokage once again placed her hands on Chihiko, this time on her slender shoulders, "All of the ANBU shinobi were only minimally injured. Whoever taught you should be commended."

A small, nearly unnoticeable smile appeared on the girl's face. It was the first that the Hokage had noticed anything other then a frown cross the girl's lips.

"Well, now that we have that cleared, we need to move on to other things…" the older woman continued, twisting one of her ponytails, "like your return to your village."

Whatever pride or good-feelings the Hokage had bolstered in Chihiko were snuffed out like a candle in the rain.

Shame began to swell in her core, like a scream building up in someone's chest. Coming to Konoha with the intent to avenge Zaku's death, it had all been for naught. The only self-fulfilling thing in her life had all been a scam, and Chihiko felt intense pangs of guilt, shame, anger, and embarrassment shoot through her like arrows. As each one passed through her, more and more of her began to realize that the only course for her was that of obedience, of training. To be a tool was her shinobi way…there wasn't anything left for her. There was no room for a life, for friends, for anything.

"When should I return…can I even return?" she asked somberly, wondering just how disgraced her elders would be in her if she returned now, after all she had done. She doubted that they would even consider her for the Jounin position now…all her training would be for nothing. She would be a disgrace to the entire village.

The Hokage walked back to her desk and pulled open one of its drawers, taking out a small green, yellow and red scroll. Chihiko instantly recognized the seal of her village's chief stamped in wax on the outside of the document. Carefully, she placed the tube of paper at the front of her desk.

"This is the message we received from the Waterfall village. While I myself am unfamiliar with the inner workings of your village or with your chief's disposition, I am sure that I can arrange for your return without any ramifications. I will send word of your predicament and of Orochimaru's part in all of this," the woman spoke clearly, putting the scroll back inside her desk.

"Thank you, Hokage-sama. I cannot return home until I undo all of the damage I've caused," Chihiko said. She struggled to smile, knowing that things might turn out all right, but all that she could muster was a half-crooked thing that was half smirk and half grimace. There were just too many things to consider; she couldn't relax until she heard from her village.

The Hokage frowned inwardly, thinking about the burden the young girl probably had to bear, being so young and forced to do so many great things. She had seen young shinobi twice as old as her crumble under the weight of expectation; it was surprising that this kunoichi seemed to accept her responsibility so easily. There was an inner strength to this girl that the Hokage could sense with her experienced eyes, and then below that, something else. All her life, she had never seen a shinobi so young summon Jyukai Koudan, the gigantic tree, and wield its power so fluently.

"I'm happy to hear that…it could take many weeks to repair just one of the buildings. If you are to stay, I shall have one of this mansion's rooms rented out to you. I doubt any of Konoha's citizen's will be eager to welcome you into their inns," the Hokage said, scribbling notes on a blank piece of paper with a horse-hair brush.

"And as long as you're here, you may call me Tsunade. I have too many people around here calling me Hokage-sama; it makes me feel old."

Chihiko nodded, surprised by Tsunade's hospitality. Although it would be strange to stay in such a magnificent and sprawling establishment (she would rather sleep in Ishiraku's tiny inn), Chihiko knew that the Hokage was right in wanting to keep her safely tucked away. These were proud people and she had caused a significant amount of damage, maybe even injured some people. From now on, she was more then an outsider, she was something worse. There would be no more cheery faces or happy salutations for Chihiko, at least not outside the mansion.

"I know that my stay here is not recreational, Tsunade-sama. When shall I begin renovations?" Chihiko replied, ready to make amends on behalf of her own village. If she didn't, Waterfall's slipshod reputation would sink even lower. Even if she wasn't admitted back into her village and had to live the rest of her lonely life as an outcast-kunoichi, Chihiko wasn't about to let her elders, and more importantly, her teacher, suffer in the wake of her tragic mistake.

"Soon enough. But there is something else that I would like to do during your stay, if you agree to it," Tsunade answered, still occupied with her notes. Now waiting for the ink to dry, she finally rested her brush back into its holder, finished with whatever she was writing.

"I'm going to be forthright. There is something about you that I can't shake. I watched you fight those ANBU with incredible ease. Nobody lives through one of their ambushes, not without losing a limb or two, but you came through unscathed."

She stopped, carefully eying the white-haired girl for any kind of reaction, but the girl's face remained self-possessed. Chihiko's green eyes stared back, unwavering, unblinking, and it was hard for the Hokage to believe that this was the same girl who only ten minutes ago, had been crying and quaking in fear and panic. For a moment, Tsunade felt as though she were talking to a statue.

"Therefore, when you are not attending to repairs and reconstruction, I would like to have some of my shinobi study you, if only so that I can have you put into our shinobi records. I assure you, they will be kept private," Tsunade explained, trying to sound as cordial as she could. She was just a few steps short of requesting Chihiko to become a lab-rat and she didn't want to scare the girl into thinking she would be put on some dissection table or be cut open to see how she ticked.

"That is, only if I have your consent."

Chihiko thought about this carefully. The Hokage hadn't killed her, so perhaps she could be trusted. But what if her life had only been spared so that the Waterfall's most prudent "weapon" could be researched? The thought of being examined and watched made Chihiko feel uneasy; she was used to only having Hitaishii observe her. Was she really comfortable with having complete strangers monitor her?

"Chihiko-san?"

Batting her eyelashes, the girl looked back at Tsunade, still standing next to her mahogany-wood desk. When she had looked into the yellow eyes of Orochimaru, Chihiko had sensed many things: anger, cruelty, lust. They were the eyes of someone who didn't care about killing or hurting, who had no regard for human life or fragility.

But Tsunade was different. Although Chihiko could feel some sort of faint connection between the two, she knew deep down that the Hokage would not lie to her. Thanks to Orochimaru, Chihiko was now aware of what it felt like to be deceived. Looking into the woman's beautiful, yet strong, face, Chihiko did not sense that sort of motive, only unreserved honesty and seriousness. She was sure of this just as she was sure that spring followed winter.

"That is fine," Chihiko finally answered, and this seemed to please the Hokage, who filed the completed documents into a single manila envelope.

"As long as I have your word that this research will remain secret."

Another smile, and then Tsunade clasped one of Chihiko's hands in her own. As she did this, the younger girl felt a warm bubble of reassurance spread throughout her body, like smooth hot chocolate filling a person's stomach after a long day in the snow.

"You have my word as the Hokage of Konoha, Chihiko-san," guiding her towards the room's exit, Tsunade released the girl's hands so that she could open the large door, the hinges noiseless. Chihiko glanced out to see a lingering hallway, several doors on either side of it.

"I'll have my attendant, Shizune, take you to your room. She should be arriving shortly."

As if the Hokage could project her voice through the entire mansion, a woman with chin-length brown hair appeared from around the bend of the corridor, wearing a plain blue kimono. In her arms was a heap of folders, books and scrolls so high that she had to look around it in order to see. Chihiko was amazed that the woman was able to keep it all balanced and still rush down the hall towards Tsunade's office.

"Shizune! I have a job for you!" the Hokage barked out, causing the younger woman to nearly trip in her stacked-heal sandals.

"Yes, Hokage-sama?" Shizune responded, the stack in her hands wobbling. Once or twice, the top-most book nearly fell, but the woman was deft and nimble, and she tipped her arms in order to keep the entire pile from falling apart. Chihiko realized that the attendant had not even noticed her being there; her attention was devoted to her master.

"This is Kawano Chihiko, from the Waterfall village," Tsunade said, stepping to one side so that Shizune could get a better look at the girl. At first, the brown-haired assistant seemed taciturn, and Chihiko could feel the woman glaring at her reticently. Just as Tsunade had predicted, there would by many who would not trust Chihiko as she did.

"Shizune, you have no reason to suspect Chihiko-san anymore. All of the details are in this report, which needs to be filed in the records room."

Nonchalantly, Tsunade slapped the manila envelope on top of the tower of manuscripts, and it suddenly started to sway dangerously. Like a sandcastle left too long in the baking sun, all of the books and scrolls began to slide off like crumbing grains of sand, slowly at first, one or two at a time. Seeing the woman's dilemma, Chihiko rushed out from behind Tsunade, hands already in motion to snatch up the cascading downpour of documents. Several seconds later, the entire pile that had once been trembling in Shizune's hands was now being held securely in Chihiko's.

"T-Thank you!" picking up the few folders that had fallen first, Shizune bowed gratefully. She seemed relieved, and also a bit more accepting of Chihiko, who simply nodded in response.

"Now then," Tsunade said, satisfied that at least one more person in Konoha was accommodating to the probably misunderstood kunoichi.

"I need you to take Chihiko-san to one of the guest rooms. Also, please have a hot meal ready for her."

"Right away, Hokage-sama. Is there anything else that you need?" Shizune responded politely before turning to Chihiko, who was still burdened by the vast pile in her arms.

Exhausted from two battles and a near fatal confrontation with Tsunade, Chihiko suddenly felt the muscles in her arms starting to sting, struggling to remain clenched. Her biceps quivered and shook, the burning lactic acid causing her fingers to slip. With a single hand, Tsunade scooped the books out of Chihiko's arms, balancing it effortlessly on just her thumb and two other fingers.

"Not now, Shizune," she responded, but before she retreated back into her office, she looked at Chihiko sternly. The fire in her eyes once again started to smolder.

"Chihiko-san. You have my protection while in the village, so don't worry about how the other villagers perceive you. I can't help what others feel or think.

"That being said, I must advise that you not give anyone reason to fear or otherwise be wary of you. I don't need any more incidents, not with all that's already happened.

"Finally, and most importantly, if I find that you really are here to invade Konoha, that my trust in you has been squandered…I personally will _kill_ you."

The Hokage was utterly serious.

Without another word, Tsunade turned quickly and disappeared back into her office, leaving Chihiko and Shizune alone in the hallway. They both exchanged a nervous glance, although Shizune seemed more accustomed to the Hokage's fiery personality; she gave Chihiko a cheerful smile.

"I trust in you, Chihiko-san, that was just Tsunade-sama being her scary self. She's been my master for so long, so I'm just used to it," the woman whispered, making sure that her words wouldn't make it past the doorframe. Petrified by the Hokage's death threat, Chihiko found herself mired to the floor, unable to move or breathe or speak.

So much had happened, so much had changed. She had gone from being an invader to being a misguided pawn in one of Orochimaru's schemes. It was hard to believe that she was still alive at all. Chihiko gingerly touched the skin of her neck; it was still sore where the Hokage had grasped it, and she traced the deep indentations that Tsunade's fingers had made on her flesh.

More so than ever before, Chihiko would have to be as unobtrusive as possible. Her only comforting thought was that she knew she wasn't a hazard. Now it was just a matter of making the other villages aware of that as well.

"Now, I bet you're ready to get some rest…" Shizune remarked, noticing the tired bags underneath the girl's eyes and her frazzled white hair.

"The guest rooms are just down the hall. Once I show you yours, I'll tell one of the chefs to bring up some food for you."

Even though the thought of food made her salivate, Chihiko couldn't help but feel a slight sting of guilt. Back at the "Gentle Springs", Ishiraku was probably wondering where she was, his hot egg omelet now growing colder and colder. It had probably taken him so long to make the bed and clean the room for her, and now it was all going to be a waste. Chihiko made a mental note to go back and apologize, although it would have to wait a while.

With a heartfelt sigh, Chihiko followed Shizune down the hallway, realizing that the attendant had already started to walk away from her.

"I guess there's only one way to go now," Chihiko thought aloud, footsteps heavy and solemn along the hardwood floor. With every step, she felt the distance between the Waterfall village and herself become larger and larger. The longer she stayed here, the more her chief's contempt in her would grow, she was sure of it. He hated Konoha, and Chihiko thought with a huff of disapproval that he might have been glad if Chihiko had buried Konoha to the ground after all.

Nothing Tsunade had said indicated that she wanted to dominate the other, smaller villages, so why did her chief and the other elders loathe Konoha? There was no reason for such animosity and Chihiko felt it was useless to fight for such a hateful leader.

Chihiko doubted that she would enjoy living in the Waterfall village after all she had seen and heard. What if Onoda sent her back, this time on a suicide mission? What would she do? Where did her allegiance lie, if not in her own village?

At least she had Hitaishii, who above all, believed that the shinobi countries could live in peace, that there was no need for competition or fighting amongst the nations. Chihiko was proud to be his student, his tool, if nothing else.

Even if she was just a puppet, she would at least be one unclouded of hate and anger. For her, there was only her teacher, her master. This she decided, was the way things needed to be, and she nodded her head as if to reaffirm this to herself, confirm her judgment.

"Um, excuse me? Chihiko-san? You're room is back here!" Shizune's voice rang clear amid Chihiko's muddled thoughts, and she twisted around to see Shizune standing next to a doorway maybe fifteen feet behind her. Face reddening, Chihiko scurried back as the attendant added, "You really must be exhausted! Don't worry, the guest rooms are really nice, better then the one I have probably!"

Chihiko thought that Shizune was only half-kidding, for the woman seemed almost jealous as she fumbled in her pockets for her keys. She produced a large metal ring with several different types of keys attached to it, some of them nearly rusted to the point of breaking, others shining. It was one of these newer looking keys that Shizune inserted into the doors padlock, giving it a couple twists until there was a satisfactory click.

She pushed the door open and flicked on a light switch that was just inside the room on the first wall. Instantly the entire room was basked in a soft, white glow.

"Here you go. The shower is in the attached room near the back, with fresh towels in the closet. Let me know if there's anything you need," Shizune explained before closing the door behind her.

It was certainly…plush. As to be expected of any room in the Hokage's mansion, the guest bedroom was sparkling clean, with a down-filled mattress atop a queen-sized bed that looked like it might swallow Chihiko whole. Everything was either blue or white, with a large bay window on the wall farthest from the door which was partially opened to let in a cool, refreshing breeze. Billowing curtains of sheer fabric fluttered in the air like the skirt of a ball-dancer's dress.

The room was astonishingly pretty, but she was almost afraid to touch anything, lest it might crack, repulsed by her filthy hands. She unzipped her boots at the doorway, removing them slowly. Her feet instantly began to swell, having been confined for nearly two days straight, and Chihiko let out a low groan of fatigue. Carefully navigating the room, the girl made for the bed, and eyeing in guardedly, wondering if it really was meant for sleeping or if it was for show, she sat down on the one edge. Instantly her entire body sunk into the marshmallow-like mattress, the lavish mattress sponging around her like the petals of a closing flower. The entire surface of the bed was cool, much like a patch of grass in the morning.

Chihiko had wanted to take a bath, for her skin felt sweaty and she knew her hair was caked with dust and dirt, but drowsiness was winning out by a landslide, as she reclined backwards, feet kicking up into the air. Arms spread apart, Chihiko smiled, for no reason in particular except that she was finally in a bed, and let her eyes close.

"It will…only be for just a little…only until…dinner…" she spoke lazily. She then gave a jaw-cracking yawn, as she pulled herself onto the bed, curling her self into a small ball of yellow and white fabric, her hair becoming invisible amongst the white pillows and blankets, so that only her green dreadlocks were visible.

She thought once more about Ishiraku, about the room that she should be in, about how hard it must have been for him, and Chihiko tried to move, so that she could possibly call him or write a letter or something. But she was just too tired, her arms felt like they were being tied down to the bed, and her mind was filled with too many thoughts to concentrate on any one for more then a few moments, making her even more weary.

It wasn't long before she fell asleep, snoring just a little, her body nearly hidden in the voluminous folds and bulges of the mallow-like mattress.

((A/N: Sorry this chapter is so long, but I really wanted to introduce some more Naruto characters, plus make them relate to Chihiko in the most realistic way possible. Hope you enjoy, and please write a review if you have a moment!))


	13. Willpower

Chapter twelve : Willpower

Hot.

Too hot.

Sweat was building in every bend of her body, behind her knees, beneath her chin and under her breasts. It made her entire body feel slick and filthy, especially since she had yet to shower and grime caked her skin heavily.

"Mother…" she spoke wearily, almost questioningly. At first, she wondered why her regular bed sheets had been replaced for ones that were far too capacious.

"Mother?" Chihiko called out again, this time a little stronger.

Still nothing.

Her parents should be home, it was a Saturday after all, right? Father would be down the hall making breakfast, probably some kind of egg omelet, and Mother, she…

Egg omelet.

"Ishiraku…" her mind was a garbled jungle of erratic thoughts. She flinched, her hair plastered to her neck, sopping wet from sweat. The girl could feel the ridges in her cheeks from her pillow even before touching them with stiff, fidgeting fingers. Her hands shook uncontrollably as she traced the fissures on her face, barely able to keep them still, nervous energy coursing through her rested body, eager to move around though her mind was still numb.

"Why...where..."

More questions, only to be answered with more confusion as Chihiko's senses fought to sharpen. Desperate to keep her hands from quivering, she grasped the comforter beneath her, expecting it to feel rough and course. Instead it was smooth, softer then it should be, velvety and luxurious, and then there was simply no mistaking it.

Chihiko was not in her home.

Her eyes were partially coated with crust, and probably dirt, and that made the task all the more difficult. Frustrated, Chihiko scratched away the gunk with her fingernails, digging away at the outer coating carefully. A small bit fell into her half-open mouth and she sputtered indignantly. It was salty and bitter, and the taste collided harshly with that of morning breath.

"God, I feel terrible," Chihiko moaned, still not quite sure of where she was, or why she wasn't in her cheaply adorned room. Hadn't she just been dreaming? The fight with the green-clad boy, the confrontation with the fifth Hokage…it all seemed too fantastic and unbelievable. Yet it was all true. She was in Konoha now, far from her home village, away from the quiet and peace and the mundane.

There was no point in trying to convince herself that this was some sort of dream. Chihiko wasn't so naïve or childish to resort to such silly escape-tactics, and the sooner she got on with her life, the better.

Nearly fully awake, Chihiko stretched her legs a little, twisting her ankles until they felt limber enough to stand on. Her face still felt a little flushed and poofy, and there was no telling how awful her hair must have looked. Nearly three days had passed since she'd had a decent shower or meal, and immediately her stomach growled, empty and unhappy.

Clumsily and bereft all of her usual grace and elegance, Chihiko slumped out of the bed and was surprised to find that it sat nearly a foot higher then her one back in the Waterfall village. The squashy comforter slid off with her, piling onto the ground like a flattened marshmallow around her feet. It was still frightfully warm, and the gaps in between her toes began to sweat uncomfortably, causing Chihiko to squirm. Kicking it away, the girl, now completely in tune with her situation, sighed regretfully.

She didn't hate Konoha…actually there was little in the world that she _hated_. But she simply didn't want to be here, didn't want to sleep in this bed, or live in this palatial estate. But it was all she had; there was no going back now. Every action bore a consequence.

The room was dark. Someone had apparently closed both of the windows, allowing the room to become stiflingly hot and close. Fanning herself with a single hand lackadaisically, Chihiko moved towards the back of the room, socked feet shuffling on the carpeted ground. Pulling on the window's latch, she let them swing open, a chilly wind flowing into the balmy bedroom, tossing the white curtains about. Relief instantly filled the girl as she let herself be enveloped by the soothing draft that seemed to absorb her sweat and ache and pain like a sponge.

High up in the Hokage's mansion, Chihiko peered into the night sky, glad that her room afforded such a beautiful view of the city. There was no arguing that Konoha was spectacular, even at night. It seemed to be just as lively and animated in the evening as it did in the morning, maybe even more so, for lanterns and candles now glowed within the crowded streets like oversized fireflies floating stationary in the air. The entire town seemed to emanate a powerful stirring, an energy that pulsated and surged freely throughout the entire city like the hand of a god. Chihiko's eyes sparkled as she continued to gaze dreamily at the city, wondering if she could ever come to forget all of this, or if it would haunt the rest of her life like some distant wish. Once again she was reminded of her own town, of that quaint place with its farmers and below-average shinobi and their hateful, jealous leader.

"I have my way of life, I have my teacher, I have my teacher…" she said to herself, repeating the last part to herself over and over like a mantra. Now that she had seen the outside world, witnessed the opalescence of Konoha and the good-natures of its citizens, Chihiko had a hard time believing that there was much that her home village had to offer. Konoha had riches, it had people of high-stature and impressive warriors spilling out of every orifice. But there was nothing that could convince the reserved kunoichi that there was a better teacher, a better _person_, in Konoha that could replace Hitaishii. At times he was more of a parent then her own, and they weren't even her real parents.

His kind and intelligent face shielded her eyes from the Konoha nightlife, keeping her mind in focus on what she really needed, not what she thought she might want.

One man was all it took for Chihiko to understand that this town was not meant for her. She had to trust in him, for now there was little else that was sacred. Her village chief was most likely furious, and her mother and father were without a doubt probably disgraced by her actions. She felt selfish, having left them with no word of where she was going, that she would be safe and that she would return. But at the time, it was what she thought she had to do, for herself, for her own conscience.

A tear, small and embittered, found its way out of her one eye. Chihiko placed a single finger beneath her nose as she sniffed, sad and lonely in this expansive town that she was so out of touch with. Her eyes closed as she felt a dull hurt in her chest that made her heart sore.

Everything was her fault. Peering down at the city, she could see the crumbled section of the hospital that she would be tasked with rebuilding. Her disregard for authority had caused that destruction.

_Even in Aikido, 'the way of harmony', there are times when you simply must act first…_

"I know this," Chihiko spoke out loud, fully conscious that her deceased teacher, Kichimata, would not answer her. There was no one here to ridicule her, there was nothing to stop her from seeking solace in the words of her former teacher.

"It's just…it's just I can't help but feel this way…even if I was tricked….even if it wasn't all my fault…"

_I think it's stupid not to live your own life…I have my own goals and stuff…my own dream…_

"Zaku…why did you have to die?" she sobbed a little, wondering if maybe she had been in his thoughts before he was murdered.

_It's easy to blame yourself for everything in situations such as this, but it isn't right, and it won't change the past…_

For a moment her breaths stopped short, caught in her throat. At the time, she had simply disregarded the Hokage's kindness, but now, alone in the quickly cooling room with no one but the comments of the dead to think about, Chihiko found herself revisiting what Tsunade had said.

Just as the older woman's touch had kindled a newfound sense of well-being, her words cut through the murk of doubt that swirled in Chihiko's heart.

It was too late for sad ruminations and with a curt nod to no one but herself, Chihiko realized that it was simply time to move on rather than dwell in disbelief and insecurity. She had a task to uphold, as well as her own village's dignity. Casting a glance at the world below her, at the city she owed one last obligation to, Chihiko separated herself from the window and walked towards a small room connected to the bedroom. Her worn and calloused feet scrunched when they hit cold bathroom tiles, an icy chill weaving through the tattered fibers of her socks, but at least she knew she was going in the right direction.

Feeling around the walls for a panel of any sort, Chihiko pressed on the first small button that she found. A row of soft lights clicked overhead, illuminating the room in a warm light that was neither stark nor too weak that it wouldn't penetrate the looming darkness.

There was fine porcelain everywhere in the bathroom which, quite expectedly, matched the rest of the mansion in its cleanliness and presentation. Stepping delicately onto a single circular rug, Chihiko removed her grubby clothes, unzipping her corset-shirt and slipping off the unattached sleeves, letting her skirt slide down her scratched thighs and calves. She took her time unraveling her arm and leg bandages, slowly uncoiling the thin strips of fabric, relishing in the satisfaction of being out of battle at last. Her bare skin soaked in the fresh air once more, finally able to breath now that it was unfettered.

Her fingers massaged the tired flesh of her legs, worn from so much running and fighting. Fingernails cascaded across the soft surfaces of her body, gliding effortlessly despite the thin layer of dirt, until she reached the top part of her left thigh. Suddenly her skin lost all of its suppleness and became hard and rigid, nails rapping and making a sort of raking noise. Chihiko paid no attention and began to itch the seemingly wooden surface, pieces of her skin flaking onto the ground like chips of bark.

All her life she had been aware that there was something different about her, something alien and bizarre. The strange epidermis that seemed to travel all the way from her upper thigh to just below her below button, was the only physical thing that set her apart. The most talented doctors and specialist had no answer for why she was like that, and could only tell her that it was growing, consuming more and more of her body as she aged, like some kind of visible plague.

She cared little for the growth; it distanced her further from the other citizens of the village, more so then her abilities as a kunoichi or her remarkable life as an orphan did. Plus at times like these, after battle and when unclean, the folds of the bark-like skin became infected with mold or other parasites. It was like eczema for a tree, and at the moment it was driving Chihiko crazy, her fingers working like ants to remove the filth with little success. As more of her skin was replaced with the oaken-hide, she feared that she was becoming less and less human, and more like the machine or monster people expected her to be, like their projected fear of her was changing her into something else.

Something she didn't want to be.

Bits of wood jammed underneath her nails, Chihiko breathed heavily, trying not to focus on the perpetuating, maddening itch. A burning sensation that had been building from the constant scratching was beginning to plateau into a persistent throbbing. She glanced around the well-furnished bathroom, trying to keep her mind occupied with anything other then her uncomfortable leg. There was a toilet, a vanity and chair, and most importantly a standing shower with a set of plush lavender-colored towels next to it.

Pulling off what little else she was wearing, Chihiko practically leaped into the shower, twisting the spigots so that a deluge of water poured out over her, cold and wonderful against her sweaty skin. For a moment she simply let the water wash away worry, doubt and whatever else was on her mind, her long hair becoming sodden and heavy. As the icy stream flowed over her, it gently flushed out the dirt from her wooden-skin, and Chihiko almost groaned with pleasure and relaxation.

Grabbing a small, travel-sized bottle of shampoo, Chihiko wrenched it open, the paper seal snapping off easily. Oozing some of the sweet-smelling goo over her head, the girl leisurely kneaded her ratty hair, combing her fingers through the tangled strands, breathing in the delicious perfume of the shampoo. The conditioner felt just as succulent, softening her dry hair, thirsty for moisture.

Grabbing a wrapped, and then quickly unwrapped bar of soap, Chihiko scrubbed her body, genuinely tossed into ecstasy from the sheer satisfaction of finally being clean once more. A quick rinse, and the girl slowly turned the spigot off and groped outside of the shower to grab a solitary towel.

Wrapping it around herself, Chihiko soon realized that she was in a bit of a bind. Her clothes, while still in relatively one piece, were horrible dirty and now covered in a sheet of her peeled "skin". Mumbling some less-than-girlish words, she picked up the garments and shook them over a trash bin that was tucked next to the toilet, trying to keep more or less all of the chips off the floor.

She walked back into the bedroom and tossed the clothes onto a nearby chair. Tightening the towel around her body, Chihiko bent down and unlatched the pouch from her skirt, hoping that the top flap of the small bag had kept the inner contents clean. With a content smile, she pulled out a pair of fresh undergarments that were amazingly still crisp and slipped them on. Patting her skin dry with the towel, Chihiko then twisted her hair into a massive turban-style wrap, one that was both heavy and cumbersome, but there was no faster way for her hair to dry.

"Now…what to wear…" tapping her lips with her fingers, Chihiko sauntered around the room casually, not quite sure where to look, or if there was anything that she could even look for. A rather large wardrobe caught her keen eyes, and following a gut-feeling that couldn't be ignored, she opened the wooden double-doors. At first her heart sank a little in her chest, as it appeared to be empty, several bare hangers latched onto a single pole that ran along the top of the wardrobe. But she peeked inside, and her diligence was rewarded when she spotted a single robe, nearly invisible because it was so far to the left side. Chihiko yanked it off of its hanger, causing the metal to clang against the wooden interior of the wardrobe, and ripped away the protective plastic covering. In a single swirling motion, she wrapped herself in the comfortable robe, tying the sash around her slender waist. It was very plush, made out of a nearly indulgent fabric that she'd never felt before, softer then the freshest of down and yet breathable like cotton.

_Knock…knock…_

The rapping that came at her door was minute, subtle, almost unperceivable. Chihiko twisted her head to look at the door. She was certain she had heard it, but then again, maybe it was at a different door in the hallway. It was very late; who would be here, and why?

Making absolutely sure that her robe concealed her body, Chihiko edged nervously towards the door. There was a small eyehole, but it was seated rather high and she had to get onto her tiptoes in order to peer through the glass opening. Through the hole, Chihiko saw the warped, fishbowl-lens image of the Hokage's attendant, who was looking rather tired.

"Chihiko-san? Are you awake, are you decent?" her muffled voice barely made it through the heavy door; Chihiko had to press her ear against the wooden surface in order to hear the last part.

Unlocking the door, Chihiko opened it to a slit, enough so that she could just see Shizune's pale face. The attendant bowed ceremoniously upon noticing that Chihiko had obviously just finished bathing.

"Omigosh!" she exclaimed, eyes widening as she averted her gaze, "I didn't know…I mean…I didn't mean…"

"Don't apologize, I've just finished, it's alright," Chihiko reassured the flustered woman, who was already blushing, "Is there something you need?"

"Well…urm…" composing herself, Shizune brushed imaginary dust from the front of her kimono, straightening her back as she continued, "I was just wondering if you needed anything. Do your clothes need to be laundered or are you hungry? Normally I don't tend to guests this late, but I saw that one of your lights was on and thought it best to check…"

"Actually, I'm glad that you stopped by. I could use both of those," turning away from the door, Chihiko snatched up her dirty clothes, careful to tuck her underwear deep into the pile. She returned to the door soon after and handed the bundle to the compliant woman.

"Very good. I'll have these cleaned and returned to you. In the meantime, you mentioned that you'd like something to eat," Shizune placed the small pile of clothes into a bag that laid next to her, "I figured you didn't want much when you first arrived since you were so exhausted. I'll have one of our chefs bring up something for you, ASAP! Is there anything in particular that you'd like?"

"Just some egg omelet with tea, please, if you can," Chihiko asked politely, bowing slightly in appreciation. Without another word Shizune picked up the bag of dirty clothes and retreated down the hallway. Chihiko watched as she disappeared out of sight, her stomach grumbling ferociously in anticipation. Her shoulders slumped a little; hunger was getting the best of her now and even after resting, she still felt a little weak.

A flash of light behind her caught the corner of her eyes and Chihiko spun around, curious. Now facing the window once more, Chihiko nearly jumped when another burst of ebullient light seemed to appear from nowhere out in the city. Eyes wide like those of a baby, wondrous and inquisitive, Chihiko skittered across the carpet, the cramps in her stomach a thing of the past. Leaning into the bay windows flat surface, Chihiko looked out past the open window, hoping to see the intriguing lights once more.

Flowers of sparkling radiance burst out, like gigantic blossoms made of stars and comets. All of the rainbow's beauty seemed to come to life right before Chihiko's eyes as the air above Konoha was painted with bursts of immaculate color.

Never before had she witnessed something so gorgeous and remarkable. She craned forward, trying to move closer to the starbursts, wondering just how they were created, where they came from. Every inch that she gained towards the lights was a victory. Now nearly hanging out of the window, the towel holding Chihiko's hair toppled over, but she disregarded it, enamored with the spectacle before her. As he wet hair fell around her face, she shivered, but only from the stirring in her heart, not from the frosty bite of the September night.

It seemed to go on for hours, those lights in the sky, foreign celestial bodies that surely musts have lost their way, and were now trapped within the earth's atmosphere. But every eruption of luminosity was like a gift to Chihiko, who had completely forgotten the pangs of hunger that were still biting in her stomach.

_Perhaps there is beauty here yet…_she thought to herself, as the last "flower" died in the night sky. Hair now dry from the breeze, Chihiko jumped off of the bay window, not quite sure when she had climbed up on it in the first place. Still enraptured by the display of color, Chihiko wondered if such beautiful scenes were common here, just as another knock came at her door.

"Guess its breakfast time," Chihiko said with a half-smile, wishing that she could dine with those lights, using their shine as her own.

------------------------------------------

And so things went on as only they could, with Konoha bewildering Chihiko at every turn. As the days passed, the young, "country-bumpkin" learned to understand how things transpired in the village, how to act, how to address those around her. It was all so different, but slowly, she felt herself grasp just what it meant to live in such a large, boisterous society. Chihiko discovered just how those "flowers" were made from chemicals and where the young children went to learn the way of the shinobi.

In the Waterfall village, there were no "Ninja Academies" or schools or anything. If there was potential in you, and you were lucky enough to be noticed, some random, almost always ancient instructor would be assigned to you and hopefully he would live long enough to teach you something valuable. That was how things were and always would be. Thankfully for Chihiko, she had displayed such promise that a younger teacher was eventually introduced to her, one that wouldn't die within the year.

Although there was no way for her to totally assimilate with the other villagers, Chihiko soon learned how to blend in a little more, become a nobody, a faceless entity. She didn't want to press her luck with anything, didn't want to put a toe out of line. When she wasn't in the mansion, she was always at the construction sites, keeping to her job, wearing baggy clothing that thankfully hid her face rather well. And when someone requested her attention or assistance, it was always given without a second thought. Complete and absolute obedience was necessary in order to remain anonymous. It had been the direct orders of the Hokage that only the leaders of the construction knew Chihiko's true identity, and that it not be revealed to any of the other workers. She wasn't here to make lifelong friends. The sooner she finished her job, the sooner she could be on her way home, that is, if there was a home for her to go back to.

Never did she even faintly desire to venture out into the village, not even to see the sights. The view from her bay window was enough to suffice. From there, she could explore enough of the village to satisfy her curiosity, see the people go to work, play, interact. There was a vast network of life down there, and although Chihiko secretly yearned to be a part of it, there was no way she could. She was too different, too unlike them, both in spirit and body.

They had their own life, had crafted for themselves a destiny. That alone made Chihiko an outsider.

Chihiko was most happy when she was with the Hokage, being questioned or monitored. While at first it had been unusual, if not downright creepy to have a board of faceless shinobi observing her actions, her temperament, her abilities, having Tsunade with her made things a little easier to deal with. She would give an order or ask her something from the blonde woman, and Chihiko would comply earnestly and quickly. It was simple and natural for Chihiko. Her life in the Waterfall village was one of servitude to both her teacher and her elder. This was very much the same. If she couldn't be training with Hitaishii, at least she could be under the direction of someone, anyone.

It was when she was dismissed that Chihiko became most confused. Like clockwork, once the shinobi had vacated the observation room in the mansion, Tsunade would approach the docile kunoichi and tell her the same thing:

"You are free to do whatever you want."

It unnerved Chihiko to be given that choice. Since she had left the world she knew behind, made that terrible decision, Chihiko had become mortally afraid to risk it again. She realized that perhaps she wasn't able to think on her own, that the only thoughts she should think were the ones planted in her by her superiors.

Choice led to action, which led to mistakes. This was the only thing Chihiko believed, what she knew was true and terrible.

And so she would go back to her room, her little monastery, where no one could judge her further, fabricate perceptions of what she was or could be, until she was called to work on the building restorations once more.

It was just better that way.

But life is funny, and no amount of shyness or secrecy can hide you from some of things it throws at you.

Chihiko was to learn this sooner than she realized, only a week into her occupation in Konoha.

The workers were nearly done rebuilding a broken store, the second of two, and although the air was becoming increasingly chilly as the world approached October, Chihiko's face was sweating uncontrollably from behind her safety goggles. They were humorously large, but there was only one size available, and she wasn't about to complain to the foreman, especially when they were this close to finishing. Hands working diligently, she carefully used a cement edger to finish the outer wall of the building, her hair tied behind her in a haphazard bun in order to keep it out of her face.

Many of the other men had questioned just why a young, frail-looking girl, with no previous history in the construction business, was being put to work here. The foreman's only response was that she was being forced to do so by orders of the Hokage, and that no other questions be asked. It didn't take much after that to convince the worker's to stop their prying; no one in their right mind would doubt the Hokage's will. For Chihiko, this was a good thing. If the men knew that they were out here, working their tails off in what they must have thought was freezing weather (for Chihiko, it was still rather pleasant), because of _her _summoned tree, things would turn ugly very fast for the young kunoichi.

Scraping the tool into a bucket of murky water, Chihiko breathed heavily, the lenses of her goggles already foggy and hard to see through.

"Hey you, girl."

A surly voice came from behind and Chihiko quickly turned around. She was used to being addressed this way, and didn't protest.

"Yes, sir?" she answered promptly, rising to her feet, patting her gloves together to shake away the debris and dried, crusty cement.

"You're done for today. We just need to wrap up a few things and then we'll be heading home as well," the man spoke in a condescending voice, as if she had no right to be here in the first place. This _was_ a man's world, Chihiko couldn't fight that.

"Why don't you go home and finish your Genin homework or something."

Chihiko nearly wrinkled her nose in disgust. The least they could do was treat her like a teenager, not some baby. But she bit her tongue, remembered why she was here in the first place. She was repaying her debt.

"Thank you sir, I'll do that," voice curt and short, she quickly turned away, removing her goggles and leather gloves, tossing them aside into a pile of unused construction gear. Still a little perturbed by the man's patronizing attitude, Chihiko marched down the street, eager to return to the mansion so that she could clean-up.

Afternoon was quickly coming up on evening, and it wouldn't be long before the night crowd ascended into town, with their gallivanting and drinking and boisterous laughter. It was the realm of adults, one that Chihiko was both fearful and uninterested in.

Her feet stepped lightly and rapidly, her baggy pant legs swishing against one another noisily as she hurried to the northern most part of town, towards security and seclusion.

It must have been the shades that made her look back. They caught to light at a peculiar moment, causing a flare that lit up his entire face like a beacon.

Chihiko gasped as she turned around on one foot so wildly that at first she thought she might lose her balance. She gave an exasperated breath and blinked twice, thinking that perhaps fatigue was making her see things that simply were not so.

But there he was, back there in the street, walking in the opposite direction.

His hair was spiky, instantly recognizable even in the dimming light, and Chihiko realized that if she waited the young man would disappear just like the sun in the horizon.

At first she did nothing. This was chance, and chance was evil, bad, not needed. A river would always lead to the ocean and things were happy that way. There was no need for that to change, no need to rock the natural equilibrium. Chihiko knew that if she spoke to him, the boy who she knew was the same person in that old photograph, things would never be the same.

_We'll be friends…always…_

She clenched her arms. This was no time to be a coward of fate, for what else could have brought the two of them to the same place? Biting her lower lip, eyebrows pulled together, Chihiko opened her mouth to speak.

"Wait! You!" she timidly called out, much too quietly for him to hear, and he continued to stroll down the street nonchalantly. Chihiko swallowed, skin blanching in fear of losing this one, precious chance. She cleared her throat and called out again, "Please! Wait!"

This time her words reached the person's ears and he paused. Although he did not make a move to turn around, Chihiko at least had captured his attention. She made her way back up the street towards him, heart palpitating nervously against the walls of her body, palms sweaty. Her hair was halfway out of its slipshod bun, but she didn't care; she had to make sure he didn't walk away.

When she was only a few feet away, Chihiko stopped, a little scared and very anxious. Although the man had no idea why he was being approached, there was no telling what his reaction might be; he was enigmatic, his head hidden behind of the collar of his shirt, which was further obscured by a pulled-down hood.

"Um…please…can I speak with you…" Chihiko felt her lips trembling, saying the only words she could conjure. Suddenly, the young man turned to face her, the lowering sun silhouetting his composed body. From behind those dark sunglasses, Chihiko could feel suspicious eyes probing her, looking down at her. A delicate shudder graced the back of her neck and from underneath her work uniform goose bumps were forming all along her arms and legs. Without warning, he took a large step towards her; Chihiko nearly leapt back in alarm.

"What do you want? Do I know you?" his voice was sinuous yet dark, and although there was a rich warmth to his voice, there was also something else, something strong and fierce and most of all, dangerous. Her next words would have to be chosen carefully.

"I don't know you…but you knew a friend of mine…from long ago," her back stiffened as she let the shinobi look her over, decide whether or not to entertain her with a conversation. Much to her surprise, he remained steadfast, although his eyebrows were arched in incredulity. She felt like an animal's prey. She was at his mercy now.

"And who might that be? I know few shinobi, and of those, they have never mentioned anyone like _you_," he responded, shoving both of his hands into the pockets of his hoodie-jacket. Hoping that he would at least take her seriously, Chihiko mustered up her usual resolve and coolness, treating this confrontation like a formal-affair, and not some personal matter. She had told herself that choice was a bad thing, something to avoid, but she couldn't ignore this once in a lifetime opportunity, not when her friend's memory was at stake. This was nothing more than a battlefield.

"You didn't know him for long, he wasn't a friend of yours, not even a Konoha ninja. His name was Abumi Zaku and two and a half years ago, you fought him," Chihiko spoke clearly, determined not to falter although her heart trembled deep within her. If she was successful here, then perhaps her mission would not be a complete failure. The man in front of her seemed a little bit stunned to hear the name of the Sound shinobi, but it was hard to tell with his eyes shielded and mouth covered.

"Please, tell me what you might know about him…"

The man shrugged his shoulders and made a small noise under his breath. Chihiko's face became flushed with hesitation.

"I fought him in the Chuunin exams…can't say I expected to hear that name again after so long," the nameless man answered, looking Chihiko straight in the face. He continued, a sort of eerie emptiness in his voice, "He was a talented fighter, but his loyalty was misplaced. He was more of a monster then anything else, just like this master was."

Chihiko couldn't believe what she was hearing.

It was like someone was slowly driving nails into Chihiko's heart and lungs, the pain was gnawing and ever-increasing, shattering her bones and emotions at once. He was insulting her dear friend, and in doing so was making a vastly untrue opinion of her as well. An unlikely anger began to boil in her, and Chihiko tried to contain it, tried to let it simmer and die out.

"Why do you want to know about him? He was an enemy of Konoha, didn't you know?" the young man said, cocking his head to one side coolly.

The girl's eyes dilated as her final nerve snapped like a thin piece of glass tasked with holding a massive boulder. She had been able to hold back, bury the pain and the hatchet. But now, with her friend's reputation being flung into a muddy troth, the normally passive kunoichi couldn't contain herself.

"He was my friend!" she blurted out hotly, acting out of passion rather then reason. This shocked the boy, causing him to look around warily, wondering what he had said wrong. Instantly, the boy found himself both captivated and chary of the suddenly fervent girl, her white hair raised with ardor, mouth agape, teeth flashing.

"How can you be so judgmental when you didn't even know him…didn't you know he was tricked by Orochimaru, just like me?" she continued, but the moment the question leaked out of her mouth, she regretted it angrily. Slapping a sweaty palm over her mouth instinctively, Chihiko stared at the young man who looked rather either amused or perplexed.

Another step and he gained some ground on her. Chihiko thought she could see the fibers in his jacket and the pores on his face, but still nothing past those unfathomable sunglasses that made her feel overly exposed.

"I see…so that's how it is, you're the one who caused all of that," voice deep and controlled, the inscrutable boy nodded his head back towards the construction sight as Chihiko stood transfixed and silent, cursing her foolishness. Would he expose her to the other villagers? Had her reasonably peaceful life in the village come to an end? If she ran, the boy would only become suspicious, but if she stayed…what else was there to do?

_Say something!_

Chihiko's mind fought back at the unbreakable resistance. Her heart had clogged her throat and no amount of coughing was going to remove it.

_You have willpower, don't you?_

"I…he…" the girl struggled to speak, clawing to find her voice again, hoping that she wouldn't cave in, that her willpower wouldn't die on her, "Zaku was my friend, my only friend. He was tricked, just as I was…he was no monster, and neither am I."

For a while, nothing was said, not from Chihiko or the boy. Everything became silent and agitated. They were in their own bubble, where nothing could enter or exit. What had been started by Chihiko had to end here as well. There was no turning back from this.

The breath of air that had been held in Chihiko's lungs for so long finally found its way out of her, and she exhaled deeply, the color returning to her face, the pale pink flooding into her once limestone-white lips.

"I'm sorry for yelling, I didn't mean to…" she spoke straightforwardly, her green eyes half-lidded in indignity, "I just…I just need to understand that Zaku must have been twisted, that the Zaku you fought what a different person from the person I cared for."

"Don't blame yourself," the boy responded, head tilted knowingly. The sincerity in his voice caused Chihiko's heart to shiver.

"People are twistable and easily controlled. It doesn't take much to make an innocent join the wrong side."

Chihiko realized with a shocking twinge who the boy was referring to and as a final nail in the coffin, he slowly removed his sunglasses, revealing a pair of unexpectedly hazel eyes, finally dissolving the physical barrier between them.

"I won't tell anyone who you are," eyes seemingly yellow in the dying light of the sun, the boy did not smile or even smirk. But Chihiko, always perceptive, sensed a sort of resonance in his words, a trill that pierced through his tough exterior. Though his emotions and feelings were guarded like a fortress, there was no mistaking that he was an honest person.

A single butterfly, probably one of the few still alive, ambled through the air clumsily, its gossamer wings catching what little light was left in the day. Navigating through the cold air, it fluttered past Chihiko's nose, barely touching her skin. Her eyes crossed momentarily before it continued on its way, moving in front of her and then towards the outstretched fingers of the young man. It landed tenuously on the back of his hand, little brittle legs clasping to the thin hairs on his skin. Chihiko marveled at the way he seemed to silently communicate with the normally skittish insect, how it responded to his subtle movements and signals.

Just as he had been wrong about her, Chihiko realized with a pang of embarrassment that her opinion of the boy had likewise been skewed. Humbled, the girl smiled a little as she reached out towards the butterfly, its swallow-tail wings flapping lazily, completely obedient to the mysterious boy who had a not-quite-so-there smirk on his face now.

The boy mouthed a few words, inaudible to Chihiko, and suddenly the insect moved onto her index finger, its tiny, nearly invisible feet clinging to the equally minute folds in her fingertip. An airy happiness pulled at her lips, causing her to smile, a genuine, awkward smile that felt foreign.

"It's a Crimson Rose, _Pachliopta hector_," the boy methodically explained as Chihiko examined the butterfly, hypnotized by the small creature's beauty, "I'm surprised to see one out this far from its home…this one must have a strong heart to be able to survive."

Once again his insinuations struck her heart like a hammer, causing her to look up at the boy. His allusions chimed clearly, causing her face to flush, her heart clenched in an emotion she had yet to identify.

"I'm from the Waterfall village," Chihiko decided to explain herself, there was nothing more to fear. As the butterfly finally lifted off of her finger, climbing higher into the sky, she continued slowly, "My name is Kawano Chihiko…"

The young girl realized that she was acting rather directly, opening herself to a complete stranger who by mere chance she was connected to in some bizarre way. The boy shifted a little, startled by the girl's frankness. She wasn't stupid, maybe a little sheltered, but perhaps that only intensified that certain something about her.

"May I have your name?" she asked, smiling again, and this time it was a little more natural. The boy stood still, his seldom-used voice having left him. She gulped, worried that her guilelessness had offended him.

"It's Aburame Shino," he finally spoke, as he put his shades back on, that little bit of vulnerable humanity sadly smothered. Perhaps she had gone too far.

"I'm sorry…I hope I haven't said anything wrong," she said quickly, hands clenched shaking, "Please do-"

"It's nothing, Chihiko-san…" Shino interrupted, waving a hand in front of her as if to dismiss any need to act contrite, "You had your reasons for being here. I'm sorry for what happened to your friend…and please accept my apologies. I didn't mean to offend you."

No one had ever said sorry to her. Never. None of her teachers had apologized to her or asked for her forgiveness. That was her job, what she was always meant to do.

Chihiko couldn't push back the complex urge to smile, so unused to this new feeling. Not since she met Zaku did she feel so…human.

_Perhaps chance…_ she thought, looking back at Shino, who was now quiet as the grave. Although he was silent, Chihiko could tell that this would not be their last conversation, only the first of many. She couldn't say why, or when, or how. There was only that palpable feeling, that truth that shimmered in her sore and friendless heart that begged for human contact, even when she ignored the calling.

_Perhaps chance wasn't such a bad thing. _


End file.
